lines and lines and lines
By hejira j
Words, October 07 -
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- 1025 reads
Nick Cave.
I know you live nearby- Sited in Snooper's Paradise Swinging in a black leather trench Clenching the reluctant fist Of your son. He doesn't care how dark you are Or the way You spat out
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- 546 reads
At first, they hated Gerald Crich.
Written after reading 'Women In Love', as an excuse not to write a thesis chapter on it.
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- 806 reads
Babushka
She bought us one each And I placed mine Next to a ball light From Habitat I broke three of these lights They were poorly manufactured. When did I learn To say such things?
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- 614 reads
Crackling
He liked to crunch The hairy bit The chewy fat A habit That made her gag. For her, it was indicative Of a lasciviousness The grease would speckle His lips and remind her
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- 712 reads
Living Dead
It is not difficult to think of a list of spooky songs: 'Thriller' the Bollywood version of 'Thriller', 'Monster Mash', I will go on and on. My brain is made to spew trivia.
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- 597 reads
Houses: One to Seven
w.i.p
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- 724 reads
This is Saturday
She says: 'I am as brittle As dog biscuits and my teeth Are as dusty'. Frets She will flake out On the sheets stained Clover green. I am not afraid. I love this girl to my bones,
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- 774 reads
River
Two bottles of rioja Are unleashed - 'My teeth were made for this', Grinning like a Greek. This midnight sneak To the river Is a way to jolt me Aloft. Riposting, I show My sad tits
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- 1014 reads
Folk
Pressed against a skip Outside the pub we will never enter You tell me that I should listen To more hardcore. Bands with names like The Bonecrushers, Blood-Maimed, Death Nazi.
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- 579 reads
Hangover
I want to call everyone I've ever loved And tell them: Our time together Gave me joy so searing That now, when Sunday Is muffled and smells Like sweating bacon The thought of you tweaking
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- 632 reads
Tea.
Show me pictures Of all your relatives Especially the ugly ones. I will admire the juxtaposition Of your stout auntie With the chubby milk churn. Later, tracing a teardrop of excema
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- 558 reads
Only fruit.
I was mean all week Through lack of sleep And Ribena still on my lips And the pill I took Which made me cold sweat In the Thai You thought it was the pan naeng. To escape the bile
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- 507 reads
Volume.
Windows can't stop your Generic volume, The message says. I knew it! So voluminous am I, So homogenous and voluminous. Today, I billowed clear Across campus, filling
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- 568 reads
Skins
We grease in bed for hours- 11 episodes of Skins Punctuated by flicking crumbs Off my pigeon chest. At 12.12, We try out our worst insults: 'You are not even an echo
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- 654 reads
Nap
I can't help it - Monday has pissed in my tea All my karmic knots Are wriggling loose And this sense Of inevitable aging That just won't stop. A line graph With time on the y,
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- 8 comments
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- 1860 reads
Oxfam
We are in Oxfam - The book one - And she is stealing minutes Away from the tagine Which should be softening So that my friends Can add to the list of things They know about me: Great cook.
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- 466 reads
Renew
I have had this book out Four times now- 'Autobiographics' By Leigh Gilmore How we can theorise Our life stories. Gilmore eschews Familiar generic questions Apparently. I eschew the theory
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- 640 reads
The Dirty Book.
The dirty book Smiles at us for days From the top shelf. We have to climb to get it. I am volunteered On account of my supreme agility. It is called The Joy of Sex. It features a man
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- 506 reads