What are you writing? A short story What is it called? John Keats Superhero Fanny looked at me John was poet A magnificent poet That is where you are wrong  Have you really read his poetry? Every word And you have never spotted the code? What code? Just check out nightingale   My heart aches…

I found my dog pissing against a film poster which showed a pretty Swedish actress in Edwardian dress Cunt Fucking dog I wanted to piss in her face Your fucking dog pissed over me as well as the film poster That is no reason to be bitter brick When I was younger and had more…

Kathy lay stoned on the bed she had been motionless for over an hour. Dorset touched her foot with his pen and watched her flinch She opened her eyes and smiled lightly and returned to her sleep Dorset looked around the room at the posters he was designing they ranged from the ones he was…

It was the hottest day of the year. Danny One was watering his Jericho Rose in the corner of the garden. As he let the water fall onto the dry rose he considered the month. August was always a month that deceived. Within weeks the air would have cooled and the days would become darker.…

The girlfriends in their terracotta shoes danced as they avoided the comb tide. On the dunes the grasses dreamt but could not taste the fruits of the singing palms I told them that all journeys were imaginary They did not believe me As the evening invaded the day I returned and looking north I counted…

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!