Under The Table By A Table

In a room full of paper. Walls to ceiling. But not the floor. No, you can’t step on a stranger’s doodles after all.

I hung that golden oldie, the table fucking story  , by a table that looked like it had once had a good thrusting. Or two.

Bring a friend but not a lighter.  Continue reading

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I Found A Note In My Porridge

I found a note in my porridge.

Most (every) morning I start the day with a bowl of Quaker’s Oats porridge. I use one sachet to ensure I’m not being overindulgent, and it keeps me going till lunch.

A note fell out of the last sachet I tore open, like those toys used to do in cereal boxes. I felt it was merely excessive packaging, a manufacturing fault. But then I turned it over.

”Does this make you happy?”
Continue reading

Filling Time

Filling time with words
Filling time with sweat
Filling time with plans
Filling time with numbers
Filling time with people
Filling time with music
Filling time with boredom
Filling time with slumber
Filling time with lies
Filling time with meat
Filling time with masturbation
Filling time with boredom
Filling time with things
Filling time with building
Filling time with breaking
Filling time with pills
Filling time with breathing
Filling time with feeling
Filling time with laughter
Filling time with pasta
Filling time with Pete
Filling time with crime
Filling time with standing
Filling time with dying
Filling time with garbage

And time, it always leaks

So keep on filling

And you’ll just have to see