You want a declaration
an admission
that the insolvable that you caught sight of
is my folly
not my fact

A figment of my fantasy
not a condition
of my existence

How much easier it would be
to talk around a day dream
than it is
to live within a reality

Out There

Camberwell Green

A land where the pub tribute
beats the original
and the original
is a bit too much

Where the Other is fine
when far away
and terrifying
in close proximity

Where the drink is necessary
but never natural
and taken in
to erode unself
away from true self

At once alien
and the most normal land
yet discovered


She became my boiler, me her leaky tap. We passed daily, reminding each other that we each existed with small moments of mutual irritation. Attention beyond that was limited to the bare necessities that we imagined were maintenance enough.

In the end she had me replaced. I just stopped trying – cold showers aren’t so bad.

I Confess

Lady Justice Licensed for modification and use

I confess.

I admit to it all. No excuses, no explanations, no defence. I killed them. I walked down the line, I put my gun to their heads, I pulled the trigger, they died. No one else was involved, no one needed to be, I took it on myself to do it.

It wasn’t self-defence, not in the moment, not as an abstract, not at all. It was murder.

No. It was execution. Cold and hard and violent. No passion, that’d make it something else I suppose.

Is that a guilty plea? Sure. I’m guilty. Guilty of everything I’m accused of. More even, because there are no charges for thinking the thoughts I thought, or walking away like I did. Maybe there don’t need to be though, I guess that part’s not for you to judge. Someone will though.

I see you. Sitting up there, in the gallery. It’s hard for you, I guess. Sorry but I’m sane and sorry but I can’t make a show of remorse. I might feel it though, if that helps, but I’m not ready to think about that. I am guilty though, I can offer you that. I’m guilty and I deserve everything I’m going to get. I deserve justice and I want it and don’t worry, if you were, I’m not expecting any redemption from it. It just needs to be done, because I’m guilty.

I killed them, I confess. I walked down the line, I put my gun to their heads, I pulled the trigger, they died.

While the writing piles up in a dark corner (one novel, one novella – both good to go sooner or later) I’ve been getting distracted by other, shiny objects. T-shirts especially as I’ve started releasing some of my own, original, hand drawn work on them.

You can grab yourself one over at as well as doing all of the social media following and whatnot that’s supposed to be important. It’s a long way from my usual work, what with being pictures and not words and all, but it’s something I’ve come to love. It’s a refreshing change, really, to be able to present an image which is immediately ingested by the observer. It’s a bit more performative than writing and in a way a lot more gratifying. My original love is still words though and you can expect more on that front soon enough. This last year or so has been a fairly quiet one as far as what I’ve put out goes but there’s been a lot going on in the background and it’s gradually emerging into the light.

Anyway, check out the shirts and design/art stuff. And the books. And everything.