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Pages

My stories

I wish the wicked all that I wish for myself

I have collected resentments like stamps On heavy packages that smack to the floor Of the place I don’t live. I have dirtied myself with their sticky glue And breathed in their old man aroma
Cherry

I'd be lying

I’d like to say I was there that my vote counted for more than broken promises that I could tell my lovely wife how my job was safe
Cherry

Nothing is too good to be true

I always worry that someone will enter my room unannounced when I’m kneeling at my bed in prayer that they’ll see me and cough and say sorry and leave quietly
Cherry

Leave me alone

The day after they split up I decided to sell my memory at a sidewalk sale. A man ran a hand over my skull ‘Why do you want to get rid of it?’

Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly

After reading 'The Death Instinct', a novel about a supposed terrorist attack in New York about 90 years ago.

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