Tag Archives: stream of consciousness

3B48 (Impressions of a classroom on the Côte D’Azur)

The light floods in, its coldness a relief from the burning sun outside. The room is sterile but somehow reminds me of rooms in which I’ve sweated in the past – perhaps in dreams. The inhabitants cannot see me. I … Continue reading

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A Thing

She said ‘There’s beauty in the movement, Keep your counsel Don’t subdue it’ I disagreed And she stepped off My throat I rubbed my neck But managed, just about, to stay afloat. I didn’t see The point In the debate … Continue reading

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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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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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The Temp

I turned up yesterday. Shipped in. They asked me ‘Should you be here?’. I had a hacking cough, or so I’m told. I thought I sounded fine. I’ve been better, I’ve been worse, for sure. I typed and droned and … Continue reading

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The Threat Of So Much Promise

The threat of so much promise Used to keep me honest Not now though, pilgrim I look back but now I’m so far from it I used to have a kind of violent desire A faith in my cause An … Continue reading

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Party Down/Gathering

Brenda was smart. She had several piercings in her face, but no-one pierced her heart. We met at a flat in Balsall Heath and talked shit about Weimar German art. She liked James Bond, but I said I couldn’t quite … Continue reading

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The Late Pompey The Great

My scramble for relevance Ended in Boredom and vomit When I decided to be dead again There once was a time I’d ask why The bullet to the head Was a very real option then And what price for failure? … Continue reading

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Not Uncommon

I wouldn’t say it’s often, but it’s not uncommon – a half-leftover window to my energy, an under-used commodity, it’s too late now and I can only use it quite sparingly. When the head throbs and I’m angry with my job … Continue reading

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