There is a light in my life so bright I can no longer sleep through the darkest of days.

It never dims, and it never burns out.

It’s a light that pushes you towards it,

even through headaches

or through sleep deprived eyes

And so each day is brighter

Those LED light bulbs were a good idea, after all.

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

Under the Table


He led in the dark, his naked back pressed against the caffeine scented carpet and biscuit crumbs. It was 3.15 am, and he was staring at the underside of the table crying. The gum stuck to his wooden ceiling were his stars, the fading Sebadoh sticker his cloud. It had been nearly a year since he’d been with the table, he could recount every absent day, the table itself could recall none. After all, it was an inanimate object, but it was his inanimate object. The winter wind blew through the broken window cooling the room. Continue reading