It’s easy to scribble at midnight, immortalising jarred thoughts making it difficult to see the truth through the lies that we tell ourselves

Golden secret lies that swim like sorcerers beneath foreboding seas with sinister intention to drown you in their molten brass cauldrons with heavy iron ladles

It’s easy to pretend we’re not really listening when we’re coyly, sheepishly hanging on every suspicious word. Translating every verbal space that fills our ears whilst teasing our paranoia. Our tongues lie curling and frosted in our mouths

The freights are transient and they may well be rolling thunder claps through my mind. Whilst traffic clings to the city and the street lights glow like beady eyes following communists and shady characters down back alleys where cats lay scowling half bloody eye open

Ambition is sitting on time like a bomb as it ticks away opportunities and possibilities of what we could be and alternatives to fantasies of who we should be

It turns out that the man handing out blue banded scrolls is nothing more than a door to door salesman. The words we wade through to get our subscription serve as little more than a fork on the plate of society and the green light for others to judge us as we either swell with pride or shrink with embarrassment for our questionable actions

The hearts greedy will devour their prey and spin new webs of longing and direction and make unholy attempts to fathom the unfathomable. Acting in a manner un-phased and well protected but most improper

The earth is spinning and my head with it too. Psychotic angles and quadrimetric perspectives of misinterpreted visions of the mundanest of mundanities that I just cannot resist

The vacuum of the city sucks me in blinded and ensnared by the urban black widow. Fiendish and perilous but utterly addictive, utterly prescriptive. Sensational and audacious yet writhing in its own cannibalistic glory that speaks to me closer than my own heartbeat.