Tag Archives: guilt

Itch

Treat him like a carthorse Never give him anything by way of recourse He’s done, son He’s got a glitter in his eye When he remembers how he used to want to try He used to burn You will never … Continue reading

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The Hole

Once his ears stop ringing, once the ground stops shaking, he casts a startled glance around the panic room. It’s a small room, but it had taken some time to build. There are two mattresses and a sleeping bag, and … Continue reading

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As We Walked

I dreamed, last night That we were walking through the forest As shades of our former selves. Not at-a-time but all at once, it seemed From schoolboy humour through to jobs and ‘scenes’ I could not help but cry with … Continue reading

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Him

You didn’t know him, then. He had eyes that glimmered but could be as dark as coal if he desired. I was never his equal, not in my eyes, as he wove words and charm and fire and love and … Continue reading

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Conversation In Basement Flat

‘Weather’s vile’ ‘Sure. You be like that’ ‘What do you mean? It’s raining every kind of hell’ ‘You sun-worshipper’ ‘Don’t call me that’ … ‘It’s getting darker’ ‘I can see that’ ‘When do you want to do it?’ ‘When do … Continue reading

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Shack

“I’m done with this. I’m done with all the politics.”   And that was that. He just walked out. There wasn’t even the slightest hint that he might turn around.   We weren’t the same after that. After he left. … Continue reading

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Another Experiment

Don’t stop, kid. Don’t worry about the chest pains, just you worry about what is going on inside your brain. Is it productive? Is it useful? Don’t even worry about being truthful, just hold yourself together and push on. If … Continue reading

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Salamandarama

He was an easier catch than I would have thought. The kid, the man now, looking around and less “up”, more “down”. I never would have guessed this was the same dude, as used to kick it hard when we … Continue reading

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After You’d Gone

Mister recommended We get out of the hole We called him Mister Because he missed her When he went for her   Buddy Said we ought to stay He looked like Buddy Holly And he always reeked Of fireworks   … Continue reading

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“Oh God – tomorrow I go back…”

I have one full day, one day, before I return myself to the melting pot, the exchange of pain. I overdramatise. When I was at school, we had four Houses, one of which was “Spender” – Richard Spender, the Second … Continue reading

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