Len Jones’ Joinery at the bottom of my street does not always smell of wood shavings. Some days I walk past and the only sign of life is a small guy in blue overalls, firey hair curling out from underneath his beanie. I knew him vaguely at school. The cliques meant he never waved and [...]

Len’s relationships are mapped out to a tee on the crisp, white phone bill.
Here is where Nicki starts… he points at a mobile phone number, a constant for half a side in tiny black print.
And this is where she ends. Finger hovering over a break in the numbers, pointing out an extra 9 and a [...]

Words make bodies beautiful.
Right now I would like your fingers in my hair. That is all. Maybe grazing the skin behind my ear as you pull out the tangles.
And I won’t flinch when you pull to hard.

She sees him standing at the bus stop with his blond purposefully-touselled just-out-of-bed hair. She imagines a little pot of Bed Head Hair gel on his bathroom shelf, his finger indents pressed untidily into the grey gloop. She says hello. She’s not sure why. It never leads to anything much.
Hi. He looks disgruntled. There [...]

and go out looking like a milk maid. I think.

Having come from Stoke’s Independant Film Theatre where they showed Sean Penn’s Into The Wild tonight, I had major plans involving the dramatic quitting of academic jumping through hoops, the poignant good byes to family and friends and the burning of my worldly monetary savings. Before taking off into the wild. On my little ownsome, [...]

Wild horses wouldn’t then and won’t now or any time soon drag me away. Closer maybe, but gladly then. Wet eyelashes and candles and perfect bedsheets with the creases carefully hand-ironed away. This is how I emerged, shivering and dripping from an unfamiliar shower in an unfamiliar bathroom, still tasting taxi kisses and peanut butter. [...]

bomb
purple
splatter
paint
pear
naked
I tried to force these words into coherence and strict punctuation. But it is not happening. My. full-stop. key. has a mind of its own …>>>…
These words are there mainly to remind me of why
three hours sleep
spaghetti carbonara
silhouettes
raincoats
are bad things.
If I had a more vivid imagination…
(my sentences should not be allowed to die such premature, [...]

most definitely
to keep breathing
(and stop disguising
dark chocolate in melted form
with hot milk.)

At exactly one am, the foreign presenter is replaced by an English person saying DAB digital radio in a way which is unmistakably English. Everything following this is in English. This includes the news, which is all too real. It mentions the word examination.
I think maybe it is time to sleep and dream more [...]