I half laid my chips (2009)

I half laid my chips in a concrete bed of shit,
A signal, a fire beacon of a boy in distress and a girl called Deppressia.
Fit full fantasies of instantly making things better,
Not avoiding but conversating
To the ignorant you avoid.
This place is a palace of paranoia
And you, telling me tales of girls fucking boys
Who used to fuck me in a story from 100 times this year ago.
A confounded sense of feeling you made others feel how shit in turn I make you feel inside.
That head, of the high buzzed up.
I can feel my heart stop, balloon or whole for you.

32 bears fuckkkkking in a sweet shop (2009)

32 bears fuckkkking in a sweet shop.

Ubricorn’s flapping about out the back of Maurices’ crazy old Bernadette and the lof’s a little worried he’ll fly with a pikey’s five fingers.

Its about karma- the stolen chair from around the corner.

Glasses, work filled forms, a wet spoon cup of tea and my feet really stink in these pumps.

See a man about a dog, four people in the car until one escapes and we’re off to the chips and fish shop for green tapas.

Dump the unicorn and we’ll grab a table in the windy corridor.

Change of plan we’ll sit in a booth designed to echo that gigantic burp. Have a little perv and act like outrageous pop-stars. Those balls, free cocktails, funny stories and plans made to sit in the sun, drink rum and burn Bathory’s face on a purple jacket of hot coals.

I’ve got a little secret for you. Jugs and wooden punching sticks and a light bulb standing on end. Anyone for a red?

Left or right, a little lost but there’s a pirate tuning a Mic and a dance floor that I tried to dance on but got shy and forgot how to move my eyes.

All drunk and walked out on the bill. To dance in your pants with shirt-less friends adds some fuel to my running fire. Fight the cat, pose for a shot of hidden secrets, hidden lenses.

Watching from a peeping grandma’s corner, passed out in bed with a jelly sandwich and another sunrise brought in alone.

To a slightly sick stomach of sugar and smiles. A few forgotten giggles and a day left to foggy hazes.

A secret, a locations of rooftop toilets and grandpa’s older bigger fussball friend.

A combination of slopping roves, you on my left and a thumping whirr of the fridge humming along. A flash and it’s here a drink a smile a held hand to the chest of your man.

13:1 on the floor. 3 on 1 with a chair walking on tram tracks, falling down holes across roads. I wiggle, i nearly fell oh fucking hell. Stolen hats, espressos and super noodles. Three wenches finest hours.

A smell that drives you wild, a squidgy cat poo between your toes. Girl hood troubles like a coy child. And a secret weekend story venue, a wink over a tea mug. An inside smile.

Paparatzisnappy: house party (2008-2009)

Fanny Fart (2009)

Closing eyes and rubbing your thighs between my bare legs. Arching spines and spreading toes. I grip to the edge of the bed, my world for now. A world of panting breaths and biting lips. A silent smile begins a drawn out kiss. Hands engulf my face, my neck tangled in hair our heat has made wet. Fingers moulding flesh and moving limbs. Higher longer above and below. Rhythmical and precise. Locking perfectly as two rise and then fall. Tense and relax. A ruin of sound from between my legs and air flows out. A fart from my fanny, a squeltch of a noise that only an arse should make.

Introverted glances (2009)

Introverted glances,

Slamming doors

And mono syllabic answers.

Whinning’s of “and let me in the door”

Shit baby, I left you outside, come in

I’ll put you in the oven to keep you warm.

Counting sheep and re-playing old movie scenes

About forgotten and lost love

Of how people do better than their perfect shitty situation.

Calming Cedric out of a tree climbing stupor,

Giving Eugene the cold shoulder

And enjoying the conversation with Triston from the shire.

I ignore my neighbours,

Have silent conversations with my friends

And find my family problematic.

First flight anywhere (2009)

First flight anywhere for £99,
A brief thought, a stolen suitcase from a travel agents door.
Push the buzzer- peel yourself off the gallery thought.
Floor.
Leave town skip out of these mundane meetings, leave these3 rhetorical questions, no matter how enthusiastic you sound. Personal stories you tell or how many times you say ‘yeah’.
Gadfly- spittal cornered mouth, shit shoes and an in-group joke.
Would someone just stand up and shout- CUNT ISN’T A WORD ANYMORE!
Last boat out at night-
Fill my tent with air, sit and daydream.
I wish I could wash my hair & take a mirror photo on my mac-
Bore me into reaction
Title me up as reactioner, (reactionary)
Take me to the action and sit on my rear.
I can’t feel my toes and I want a cup of tea.
A smoke.
A kiss
Fuck it, lets go to bed.

Insomniac Lover (2009)

Insomniac Lover

Sits up,

Walks away from the other: in my bed

As soon as you’ve found it,

It’s lost again, never to be attained.

So where’s the fear of falling asleep.

A fight broke out, just after I froze on top of the twist.

You walked in and my earth fell apart.

You fell and lent on the seat that had a broken back.

Oh Shit, Oh my god, Oh Hell...

Paparatzisnappy: Bowling alley (2008-2009)

A stolen night in a hotel (2009)

A stolen night in a hotel, followed by a sleeping bag in the kitchen and divided worlds on faceless heads.

A fleece skirt of best friends and a present thrown through the door.

Nine toes and a gay brother, my dad arriving at a 13 dawn opened doors. Beers in hands and rolling out a day of caves and handstands in the rain.

Kisses at bustops followed by punchy sex in bars,squares, sloppers and tight lycra leg warmers.

One worm, a bag of nuts and a bed on a sea of rock.

Stains on school skirts, hockey sticks and a sweaty musical treat leads me to driving drunk songs through cattle grid gates.

Lives divided and re-kindled to repeat the same situations, of flashing lights, solo walks and shirts knotted on his breast dad’s funeral.

Muffins and Barn sugared cookies.

A circle split with icicles. Fall through a tree and hit the cafe to ignore your phone and arrive home too late.

A stolen night in a hotel, a passed out dog with a head full of water and a gas man over the fence.

Two silent worlds holding each other in a dream of obsessive love. The shelter of my light, the saviour of smoke. Driving to the swell of faces pushed into sweaty shoulders and holidays in frozen swing pools.

An athlete, a bar, a mess, the end at the start of a new city made of concrete attics. A DJ who thought he was cool until I saw him with long hair and a sore.

Eclipse of the same story, three boys and one name still the same. To the illusion of love, forgetting, irreplaceably erasing something that should never have ended. A regret.

An escape to a world of sand and needles, of punching walls, cruise ships with braces stranded in the sand bank and a wife I married in Vegas.

Lunging and joking and a little note on my paint brush. A dear friend eating okra with a grey fish from Wok. A memory of a friend and jokes that simply aren’t funny anymore.

Two. Many tears, conversations in smoke filled rooms and a friend next door.

A rock club and a pole dancing bar- two girls and a bump on an island of snow in a sugar-pink house coated shell. To a disappointment and a hope.

A stolen night in a hotel room, that bed time night cap on the fire escape outside your rented window door.