The floor of our minivan was covered in sheets of paper, a sea of black stars and pentagrams. I smoothed the creases of my black
George Maxwell was up at four in the morning again. He pulled his pale, lumpen frame out of bed and shuffled towards the walk-in shower.
Ivy fingers keep coming back to me. In their gentle grasp life felt whole. Pieces held together firmer in their place. Twisting around my body
I open my eyes, but it’s still dark. I think that perhaps I have forgotten how to operate my eyelids and bring my hands up
He walks slightly, very, drunk, with his head down and his hands in his pockets. His coat collar is turned up against the cold and
The year is 2070, she died in 2069. And now the scene was finally set. He had held on for what to him was an
I was on the George IV Bridge when I realised, with autumn, the nauseous, clouded state that I reside in for summer is cruelly stripped
Mary, you have lied to the world Have you lied? Is the angel of your dream real Or; Was there too much wine at your
The passion filled by a longing embrace, The pain of your deepest mistakes, The heat rising from your every pore, I am Red. The aching
Sitting in a train station; waiting for a train. The walls are white, the ground is cold and stone. The Sun shines, winter warm, outside.
Elegant, stylish and graceful, this exquisite woman was much more dignified than to be placing herself in this busy burgundy cafe in which she floated
pre-judged and pre-empted He goes mad, a bad; egg or so people think, his mind is made up, and outwards he goes for revenge. He
Snake on a sand dune, Slowly slithers sideways, down down down. The taciturn Snail, Has forayed too far, will not escape; the winter boot. A
by David Clark The huge metal door swung open with a loud and uncomfortable creak, allowing Jack to enter and assess his surroundings. A settee
I lay here everyday and every night. I am never touched, never thought of, never needed. I am forgotten. I’m gathering dust, my intricate gothic
He was an older man, looking through his newspaper and soaking up the knowledge it radiated. His red tartan shirt was a mismatch against the simplicity
In the words of B.B King, music is like a good liniment. Music makes you feel good. Blues, despite the common meaning of sadness, makes
Ugh. Please not today.
The whole afternoon I spent musing over the times when I still felt needed; when I was continuously being entrusted with serving a purpose. My
From some of the most lucrative movies of all time to this. Hundreds of options for merchandise -action figures, posters, even lunch boxes- and I had to