Change is an unnatural state, we’re fickle slabs of metal, purpose built cars refusing to be taken consciously by the crusher at the scrapyard. Yet as the metal contorts and writhes you’ve got to wonder is the damage eternally irreversible? The past collides with the present, I’m watching the future float out of eyesight, like … Continue reading Scrapyard
In Hell, an Irish bar
This hangover has got me reminiscing about the days we spent together, inseparable and enamoured.Our last fuck was to Doja Cat’s Streets. We didn’t even say a proper goodbye that night. I admit that it still cuts deep. Fuck, I’ll say it, I hope you’re happy. Knocking back drinks with the girls, acting like we … Continue reading In Hell, an Irish bar
2018: Madness masquerading as sanity
I awake feeling sad, broken and wishing I felt none of these things. Tomorrow i’m waking up alone and going to remember everything that once could have been. The world has a hell of a right hook, i never expected a black eye that bad. words bite, inexperience harms, i wish that had been pinned … Continue reading 2018: Madness masquerading as sanity
Watching Bojack Horseman on anti-depressants
Well hell, there's a need to overdo it with painkillers and spiritual self-harm, till even the Grim Reaper knows I'm too far gone. Things change? I bet you've heard that one before? Christ I've said it too many times before, let's see if it sticks. A loved one told me, 'running' helps with your depression. It … Continue reading Watching Bojack Horseman on anti-depressants
eyes crying? nose running? uterus bleeding? hotel trivago?
I just wanted to be Bukowski. it's three years on, and look at me now; a severe depressive, who doesn't get out of bed before 12pm, and can barely handle his emotions. Writing has become an afterthought, my own ambition handicapped by my overwhelming sense of futility. I need to stop using my blog in … Continue reading eyes crying? nose running? uterus bleeding? hotel trivago?
Mr. Brizell, we’re glad to see you again
I have a recurring dream which plagues me. At this point in its existence you could consider it a waking dream. Whenever shit goes bad, I find myself in a hotel lobby, bedraggled and hopeless, on what I presume is an unholy cocktail of substances, that keeps me barely lucid and leaves me periodically blacking … Continue reading Mr. Brizell, we’re glad to see you again
Untitled (or) Leaving myself
Months ago, if you'd have asked, I would have probably said I was happy. Unconventional, yes, but happy nonetheless. Fast forward to today (4/12/17), all of that carefully curated happiness has rotted away. The dream is dead, and hope is a cold corpse. Now it's just me, a cold room, 7am wake-ups, and a notification-less … Continue reading Untitled (or) Leaving myself
life’s not cool
i’m currently in boxers and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up. My friends are asleep on the couch. the cauldron is empty. halloween was a mess. I’m typing these words on my phone: from binge watching the second season of Stranger things (fairly decent sophomore season) to bumping into girls in short black dresses … Continue reading life’s not cool
Eyes red and raw
I’m listening to King Krule’s The Ooz (Released today). It’s a masterpiece. Now I’m back to familiar territory romanticising past experiences, thinking about the lost love. The ones who’ve moved on and figured their lives out. This year I met and fell for a girl from Spain. It was a strange, inexplicable romance, that felt … Continue reading Eyes red and raw
I’m a guy with a hat and I know I like my hat
No reprise needed here. Recently I've been having what I guess could be called an awakening of some sort; think George Harrison or Josh Tillman becoming Father John Misty. I've begun work on something big to say the least. It's been brewing in me for a very long time. With five years in my rear … Continue reading I’m a guy with a hat and I know I like my hat
Ben Brizell 