Watching TV Every Night

I lie on my bed naked as I watch TV.

It’s okay, nobody’s watching.

I’m watching something grotty, it’s better than anything soppy.

It’s okay, nobody is watching me watching this.

Though as the action fades to black I see my own reflection.

Watching me watching this watching that naked.

And I look at my reflection and pull the covers over.

I look at my reflection and throw the remote over.

But there I am, staring right back at me.

And the only thing I long for.

Is a reflection-free TV.




She didn’t care much for the dreamers sprawled outside her home. They looked so peaceful with their heads between their driving wheels, so happy with their faces rubbing against the dog shit covered ground. How easily they slept with all their daily stress evaporating. She wondered if she too would fall asleep if she stepped outside, but she did not. Not even a freak event could get her to sleep, and so she spent the morning scribbling obscenities on their flesh, searching pockets for cash, and trying to get some sleep of her own, at home and in the road.

Loose Change

One pence, two pence, five pence, ten. These are the coins that you never pick up, they are best left for someone who really needs them, after-all. But twenty pence, pick that off the floor whilst no-one’s looking. Fifty pence, it doesn’t matter if anyone’s looking. And a pound… well, you scramble. That’s what I did when I saw the coin sparkling from the sun on the concrete ground, as if winking at me. I dropped to its level, and crawled up to it before anyone else could claim it. A homeless man watched me scoop it up, too slow. Continue reading


”So, I’m looking in the mirror and I realize how futile it all is.”

”Futile, how?”

”Well, my eyebrows are uneven, my hairline recedes, my nose is too big, and you can count the chicken pox scars with two hands. Tom Cruise I ain’t.”

”Tom Cruise has money.”

”And that’s the problem.”

”Perhaps some slow breathing will sort you out.”

”That’s how I’ll find wealth?”

”Um… yeah, sure.” Continue reading



When I threw the brick at the back of his head, I wasn’t really thinking of the result. We were walking along the canal on a misty Sunday morning, and there it was, a lone brick lying in the mud. My hands kinda just gravitated towards it, and as quickly as I held it, it was gone, hurled towards his curly twirly hair. There was a thud, and then there was the fall. I knelt by his body and watched the blood flow out from his bald patch, stroking the brick as I did.

I didn’t bother asking if he was okay, there didn’t seem to be much point. Continue reading