I know a girl. That’s a mouthful. In fact to rephrase that; I know girls: I know one with an ever growing predilection for drugs, I know one with a horrible, soul crushingly bad taste in boys, I know one so narcissistic that the photos she takes of her bath products she thinks makes her … Continue reading Beautiful pristine untouched virgin girl / messy cracked broken sexually active sad girl
She cuts her ties, then her wrists
Where the title came from? The corridors of my mind, whilst I sat idly listening to Deftones enveloped in the moment. My computer screen blank. Now I sit in a macdonalds still listening to Deftones, thinking of the girl who long ago said she blocked out all her bad memories, to the point where she … Continue reading She cuts her ties, then her wrists
Poem: We’ll hug (for the times)
Familiar respite; Reading Keats, listening to Morrissey, drowned in sadness. Scribbling away in a battered notebook of poems about love and loss: poems you've read and poems you haven't. You told me you pictured our future. Just weeks ago, blissful as ever. Now you claim just friendship. By last night you'd called me a twat. I've … Continue reading Poem: We’ll hug (for the times)
I’m pretty sure I love you because you make me feel less cynical
Long day, long week, long month, long three months. Not much point in keeping count. Internal confliction is a rather terrible thing to feel, we are taught to stick to our beliefs and never feel anything else. You want to experiment with the same-sex, oh no don't do that, that's wrong. You really should. You … Continue reading I’m pretty sure I love you because you make me feel less cynical
Poem: Softly lost
Tis the early days of January. I look hard through the hue of rustic leaves. I search through the stacks of Wilde, Keats and Bukowski. I narrowly avoid my o'er streaked phone scarred to the remnants of a haunted past, my past. Encumbered with self-imposed exile duelling nightly with the tv and lovelorn feelings. In … Continue reading Poem: Softly lost
You’re a beautiful girl (existentialism in a noose)
I write this to the backdrop of Father John Misty's Pure comedy, in a rather unhappy mood, unwilling to make any social contact, appalled at the mere thought of the bullshit drivel I had to spend seven hours suffering through today. Only to find a rather empty space. I don't feel compelled to start with 'Humanity … Continue reading You’re a beautiful girl (existentialism in a noose)
You’re a beautiful girl (existentialism in a noose)
I write this to the backdrop of Father John Misty's Pure comedy, in a rather unhappy mood, unwilling to make any social contact, appalled at the mere thought of the bullshit drivel I had to spend seven hours suffering through today. Only to find a rather empty space. I don't feel compelled to start with 'Humanity … Continue reading You’re a beautiful girl (existentialism in a noose)
Down and out upon a mountain
I probably wouldn't be the ideal anything; yeah I'm there for the people I care about- little reciprocation in that area though. The amount of meaningless relationships I have cultivated based only on mutual attraction and mutual animosity for each other, guess the label was their ticket in and the casualness was mine. Now a … Continue reading Down and out upon a mountain
Gut punch/backwards booty call
Where am I in my life right now, that I have been asked through countless loathsome moments. You want the honest answer? I'm nowhere- I'm with an attractive girl- not dating though just to make that point. I'm sat on the carpeted floor of my room, tapping away at the old computer, still listening to … Continue reading Gut punch/backwards booty call
Moniker
Why the sudden splurge of posts you may wonder, after many months of silence. I don't have a fucking clue, so please do refrain. I can tell you though my week has been a mess, jumping from high to low, to just one big downward drop of everything. It's been a long battle. The days … Continue reading Moniker
Ben Brizell 