"We're gonna die, Clyde, me and you, we'll get gunned down like dogs, but it's okay cos I was fucking dying anyway."

There's three of us in this bed, all caught up in this twisted triangle, each so hung up on their own shit that theres nothing else to do but let it all fall into place.

temptation has been turned into a reality and one thats allowed 100% and its fun right?

just now i cant be bothered with any of this stuff like now its allowed its no fun, well it is just not how it used to be.

Functioning like some kind of fucked up family... all kinks included
"I don't care what u think as long its about me"
god the only thing im letting rule my world is my bladder. the grip on the handbrake is loosening but im still not giving up with out a fight. im kicking out at the world and hoping i crash yours in the meantime

a past summer regression gone wrong

Its so fucking dark again, the night and the silence are trying to steal me

max went home, he had one to go to where someone loved him best of all,

Morrissey couldnt because it wasnt his home anymore.

im more of the second then the first.

when blogs crash so do the dams of my writers block and the thoughts come flooding in.

the tides wont stop turning even to catch your tears.

This beds aching for second to fill up the space thats been occupied so many times over

dont let the wind catch you saying anything, come on bathroom girl

pull the curtains and turn on the water, wash the pain off and carry on dreaming

I know this hurts, it was ment to

Freeze it, can it and keep it. its amazing
Buzzy and beautiful
Fuck it, Blind to everything but the exhilaration.
Fuck it
Fuck it
I could live of this feeling, screaming because you know its got to end but hanging on
because you have to ride out every last bump of this ride
Tantric

Im happy but i stole someone elses, cant say fuck them as much as i want to
all my eggs are in one basket but im going vegan anyway

Scoring Skin (Were Just too old for brownie points)

Lumps in a throat real and actual although fleeting, it doesn’t stop the tears from brimming behind tired eyes, make up stains and Glances at the ceiling.
Change is stalking, at every corner and lurking behind the lamppost, the Ripper incarnate skulking in the London fog, sinister clicks; boot heels on the pavement coupled with the resonance of warm breath colliding with the deathly chill of the London streets. Feet hurrying to match hearts beats, trying and failing.
The wind delivers its final rights, flashes of sliver and the taste of metal.
One exact blow meticulously executed, a job half done?
Another coupling this one slightly more distressing the bitter cold of a Knife in your back and the warmth of the blood that trickles from the wound like a brook of pain anguish and hate, all righted with a resounding indifference.
Maybe.

This city is engrained on every move I make. Its in my blood and under my nails.
I’m completely head over heels in love with this big dirty place. Its can take you up so high and leave you down so low it’s amazing and scary. The tourist and the natives, the young and the old.
Being here means I can be myself I can, live here accustomed to all things that make me, me. Taking the girl out of the city is like telling the pope to convert to Islam. It would rip my heart out. I’m too fast for the sleepy eyes towns of south Wales, they keep the lights on all night here. I sleep all day and party all night I don’t sit in parts in kappa tracksuits and drink cider, I drop acid and drink absinth and wake up in the gutter ready to do it all again Baglan park isn’t my future its not even worthy of being my past. This isn’t a pipe dream this is my life. So fuck her, fuck her and her sheep farm and her husband and her perfect little rural life with jazz festivals and off-roading. Id rather live in the real world fuck it. No one who matters lives in Baglan.
My mates, who the fuck am I without them. Tear it up parties and Mini orgies with people who are quite willing to go shopping the next day.


Please dont turn my lights off