brighteyes
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My stories
The man in the fez with the Britney mic
Clemmy whispered something to him just after she'd gone under, while she was sat there, snorelessly inert.
I Dreamt I Took Nick's Insulin
Initially for safekeeping. He gave up the pen, chunky as the twenty-coloured marvels of secondary school, and I slipped it into my old pencil case; I have carried
The Escapologist's Water
Every time I begin a receipt for someone pleasant, I vow to make my handwriting really nice. This is just about possible in theory, but my hands rebel every step of the way.
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- 1591 reads
On grinding at sixteen
Pippa and me, her three years younger and still more accustomed to vodka, wandering a field full of tents, glow sticks and bands you'd sort-of heard of and didn't feel like sweating for.
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- 820 reads
No Stoopa
The prospect of you leaving for the weekend, it chills me like whip-wind.
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- 1044 reads