The Ideal Xmas Gift

Hai everybody!
Ok so it’s a bit early to talk about Christmas n that but I’m soooo excited, I know what I’m giving all my family and friends and I had to share it with you.

It’s the perfect gift, it won’t take up much room and you can use it again and again . . .

Feel free to copy this idea, everyone likes a home made gift and this is so personal!!1

Leave me a comment if you want me to make you one too.
Click this to see it!

Metallic Yellow Dog Bark

Life becomes an endless tick list
of loose teeth
and inverted male genitals.
Splinter and separate the bones,
as necrotic flesh blackens on the stump

Under Cover, Brother

There is a room. Inside the room is a pad, written on the pad is an address. The address is my address. The writing is not mine.

There is a small scrap of paper. I eat the small scrap of paper. It is the first thing I have eaten all day.

People keep shouting at me as I walk down the street. I am supposed to be under cover. I am supposed to be invisible.

My tongue is too big for my mouth, my cheeks have swollen up. I can’t breath. I CAN’T BREATH.

I crash through a glass door, the door doesn’t break but the noise it makes is worse than anything I have heard for days, worse than a hundred fingernails slowly scraping down a blackboard. A tiny bell rings and I fall to the floor in a heap.

I have no idea where I am.

If I could only sleep

Things I like about Denmark

Today, for my lunch I had a can of Special Brew and a Danish pastry.

These are probably my two favourite things about Denmark.

If I ever went to Denmark I’d find a boozer that sold Special Brew on tap. I wouldn’t be quite so bothered about Danish pastries but if the boozer in question happened to have a couple in a glass display cabinet then yeah I’d buy them.

Short Novel

This short novel was inspired by a distant memory of a blog post by Chris Killen in fact, it was this blog post.

oh, and this post by Ben Myers

ANYway . . .

The Procrastinator

I have an important job to do,
I think I'll do it tomorrow.

Eviction

I’m being evicted. The landlord has had enough of the late or non existant payments and the damage that’s been done to his property.

I’ve done my best to board up the broken windows and put newspaper over the holes in the wall but there’s only so much you can do.

The bare bulbs swinging from the ceiling expose more than just the physical ills of the place.

I survey the dirt and the filth, I’m up to my ankles in empty bottles and pizza boxes. There’s mud and God knows what ground into the threadbare carpets. This is my life.

If you stand dead still and wait you can hear the cockroaches and the lice crawling and scratching in the walls.

I know I’ll miss the place when I’m gone.

Dream

I still can’t breath.

I’ve just woken from a terrible nightmare; I was wearing an elaborate golden mask and chasing a dog through a house I didn't recognise. Suddenly I tripped and the mask came away, pulling with it my lips and gums. My teeth skittered away on the marble floor, in their place grew long misshapen fangs, I went to put my hands to my face, but there were no hands at the end of my arms, my arms had become tentacles. When I looked up I was standing in front of a full length mirror. I tried hard not to stare into my own black eyes, my face was covered with matted hair, I was a monster, a hideous monster, I fell to the floor screaming until I was hoarse but no one came to help me, no one came.

Addicted

My throat is on fire.
I struggle to draw each laboured breath.
I light another Mayfair and take a slow deliberate drag.

Hung Over

I hate shaving, you always need a shave when you can least be bothered to do it.

A mobile phone rings constantly in another room.

My teeth feel loose in my head, like the gum has dried and receded. I am afraid to look at them in the mirror or even touch them. I can taste blood.

I’d like lots of small cotton wool balls to stuff into my mouth. I’m not sure that this will help but the thought is comforting. I think I would feel safer if my mouth was full of cotton wool.

I need to hydrate.

A mobile phone rings constantly in another room but I don’t recognise the ringtone.

There is broken glass all over the kitchen floor.

Brown Bread

If I was to die,
I mean really,
proper dead like.
I want it all to flash before my eyes,
my life.
But not like a film or a documentary,
I’d want to feel it,
touch it, even smell it.
I’d like to dip in and out of it as it flowed past
in real time.
I’d like to fast forward and rewind it
and live it all
a thousand times.

Another Late Night

You can try pinching your face but this has a very
limited shelf life.

Even downing another can of Red Bull won’t keep my
eyes from slowly closing.

I do it anyway, I tip my head back and suck in the drink,
I crush the can and squeeze the nasty fluid down my neck.

I pick my teeth with a yellow biro and pull out what
appears to be a fairly large piece of skin. I
scrape the biro on the ashtray and the skin balls up and
gets covered in ash. I try not to think about it and
carry on driving.

My hair is wet with grease and hangs over my face.
I can chew the ends, I taste of cigarettes and chemicals.
This is not a good taste yet I find myself repeatedly
trying to bite and chew the ends. I do this without
realising I am doing it. The hair isn’t quite long enough
so I have to pull a face and distend my lips to catch the
hair, I look chimp like when i do this. I look subnormal.
I would like to break the habit. I need to make the
fringe shorter, I look for some scissors under the
passenger seat as if there was going to be a pair.

There are no scissors under the passenger seat.

I find a lighter.

I’m cold but my back is damp with sweat. I feel itchy
and open yet another can of Red Bull, spilling some of
the sickly sweet liquid over my lap. I open my window
but the noise of the wind is too much.

I have a near miss pulling on to the motorway and narrowly
avoid becoming a news story.

A sculpture.

A bloody, disembowelled transformer.