Gerry sits at his desk with a homemade brownie sitting neatly before him. He has lined it up so that the longest edge is parallel with the end of the desk, and every stray crumb he lifts with a licked finger to his mouth. I know his game. He is making a brownie island. The [...]

Bye bye, prospect of Edinburgh Uni. Hello Cambridge or a big blank nothing, and garish yellow exam timetable pinned to the wall.

England shakes at half past midnight, and I forget to breathe with my head under the duvet scared shitless, jello legs and a slammed door somewhere in the house.
By three pm I realise that this morning’s blue-skied potential will amount to nothing more than drinking from the cold carton of milk in the fridge.

One by one I am killing off every person I know.
(In my dreams only.)
This morning I fell from a concrete roof garden and woke up with a smile hovering above me somewhere, my fist still clenched around the neck of a red wine bottle long dissolved away.
After having killed my father three nights ago with [...]

I have been enveloped by marzipan-and-melted-chocolate-guilt.
You may never see me again.
It is very heavy.

At half past eleven, jarring a tableaux of uncommonly peaceful people placed close, food-and-wine malleable around a table dripping with one large wax white candle, comes a knock on the door.
It is The Ghost of bloody Christmas Past.
Remnants of himself smeared over Chrisie’s wall in blood red paint. The anti-christ and his balls.
(BRITAIN’S
BURNING
DIAL
999)
The violent slash [...]

I dream of riding Oblivion for you, in between brushing teeth in the dark with my eyes squeezed shut against the mirror before crawling back to bed at 7am, and inevitable re-wakening at 8am.
I keep my eyes open. Don’t look down! booms the voice of doom. I look down. Your tiny body hundreds of feet [...]

You look suspicious, different tonight, the way you stumble into the room and its cooking smells. The way you twist your mouth at the corner, subconsciously and one hundred percent unaware of how you look, drives me crazy. Also, you look a little grey right now. That thing you do with your eyes - stare [...]

Mr Ducksworth and I stay up late into the night, until we complain of eyelids scraping sandpaper sounds with tiredness. We hold philosophical and existential conversations. I prop my head up with a fist when Mr Ducksworth gets too intense with his side of the talk. He is always, always sitting up, back rod-straight, mouth [...]

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