We should have been lovers

You are afraid I will become everything you ever dreamed of, and you can’t leave me, either. I am bound in you. I can’t comprehend why you would do this to us. Sooner or later you will crumble about me and it will be too late— I will have no choice but to fly from… Continue reading We should have been lovers



we have been down every corridor each door we open holds a different scene but we have been through it we search for an exit from this maze a door to some new place but it is endless here

This space

this absence holds a shape you might fit here this space seems shaped for you those sounds the words they produce those things that come from you the frequency you emit the contradictions that come from your body betray your shape every moment in your presence seems like a culmination these things that leave you… Continue reading This space

Another river

The moon does not cast our shadows into the water. The pebbles do not watch our shadows drift over as we leave them. That river has been dry for years.

Fear of flying

bury me bury me! bury me right here bury me wherever you like bury me just bury me bury me in your fertility bury me! i just wanna make babies bury me in christian humility —some pretty story like that bury me just bury me bury me oh! marry me! marry me to technology marry… Continue reading Fear of flying

Here we all are

Here we all are with everyone we wanna be with, everyone we like, people like us yep Here we all are there's my wife, she knows me well Mum and Dad raised me well my mates too, they look after me well Here we all are I wish there were more people like us to… Continue reading Here we all are

Ghost stories

You are a ghost patiently waiting the return of a summer’s day spent in beach towels, flying over sand dunes. Go to the light. You are a ghost patiently waiting for that book you almost wrote to hit the bestsellers list. Go to the light. You are a ghost patiently waiting for that lover you… Continue reading Ghost stories

We can still try

A friend used to be Someone who understood Maybe even someone to rely on Someone I could swear My fealty to Nowadays a friend is A stranger who is less Strange to me Than other strangers It is better that way There are some places You can only go Alone

But maybe I’m just lazy

Books scattered by the bed: novels, guides, comics (not all read (many)); a dusty, four-stringed guitar; old boxes that housed electronics that no longer function (one has a warranty in, I'm sure). All signs of me: pointers to moments lived; old habits that refused to die; things that must have happened: little certainties. A concrete… Continue reading But maybe I’m just lazy