This life is filthy. I should be dead and buried but I’m still here somehow. My liver and lungs are rotting. I’m fatigued from the hangover. What day is it darling? I often forget. The world’s changing and I’m changing with it. Borderline personality disorder’s corroding my existence. I’m drinking gin most nights, reflecting on … Continue reading Well Mr. Brizell it seems that the world’s changing
The exit on your left leads to your mother’s uterus
I'm sat down, I've done a few lines of cocaine and then with a screech it all comes out; Ben, we're bored of all that tits and ass business. This is 2020! We want adventure, a space opera, with fluffy bears. Oh, we want great medieval dramas at war for the very freedom you have. … Continue reading The exit on your left leads to your mother’s uterus
Britain’s going to fall, so let’s make it sexy
They're going to raid Downing Street, lop off some heads, then paint a Westminster primary school with Johnson's blood and use Corbyn's entrails as decoration for a new communal area. I've got no problems with this brutal outcome. Hang Rothko's art on the new walls of a fallen England. The world's going down in flames. … Continue reading Britain’s going to fall, so let’s make it sexy
My reputation precedes me
My life is a swirling, disorienting mess. I hate myself. I'm wounded from the past like the rest of you. Coming to terms with the moment isn't getting any easier. I'm yearning for death. The morality of continued existence poses itself as a defeatist conundrum. Sure you could have it all, but sooner or later … Continue reading My reputation precedes me
My bad
All good things come to an end. There's a time limit on it all. I've broken hearts and I've had my heart broken. There's been no right or wrong either time. There's some good, some bad. I just wonder where the worth we once had for one another sits by the end of it all. … Continue reading My bad
Today’s dance floor
Honey, pull me down to the floor. Lick my face with your lust and tell me all your secrets. Fuck me senseless. Ride me like it's the morning after the apocalypse and we're the only survivors. Sure I've been around the bend and back again in just my underwear and loafers, but at the end … Continue reading Today’s dance floor
Abused bodies and dead bloody poets
Reality stagnates and fractures, the guts of humanity pour onto the cobbles we sway down. Now here I am staggering down some decrepit streets. Bleeding profusely and trying to make sense of what it means to be loathed in the moment. You can exchange as many words as you want, but it seems no matter … Continue reading Abused bodies and dead bloody poets
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
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
