Let me burn for you

Please, please, numb the pain, tie me to my bed,

The pain in my heart is now in my head,

Break me, placate me, fill me with desire,

For it burns with an all consuming fire.

Don't waste it, use it, let me burn for you,

Shape it, mould it, please give me something new,

A feeling of pleasure, of pain so sweet,

Let us lose all consciousness in this heat.

I long for comfort, the taste of your lips,

The rise and fall of your forgiving hips,

Rake me, tease me, tear my body apart,

Feast on my flesh, till you reveal my heart.

Please take it and heal it, sooth all the scars,

Lift it to my eyes and cleanse it with tears.

Your Angel

Part of your heart is forever frozen

By memories that will never change

Trapped in your heart forever

A distant smile filled with pain.

When your heart shines

Your Angel smiles down from above

And if you ever need her

Your Angel holds your hand with love.

Treasure all of your memories,

Always hold them close,

Don't let go of your heart,

Even when it hurts the most.

When your heart shines

Your Angel smiles down from above

And if you ever need her

Your Angel holds your hand with love.

Lonesome Cries

I hate the pain that you must feel inside,
I hate the way it burns behind your eyes,
I hate the fact I can't be by your side,
I hate that no one hears your lonesome cries.

Give me your pain I'll take it deep inside,
Let it burn within my vigilant eyes,
As you cruelly thrust the spear in my side,
Only you will hear my blood curdling cries.

I ignore the pain I now hold inside,
As I search for the sparkle in your eyes,
I gently wrap my arm around your side,
In a bid to banish your anguished cries.
I will kiss oblivion from your eyes
So I can silence all your lonesome cries.

Tear me down

I can’t imagine not living for something,
I can’t imagine not living for you.
I can’t imagine never giving up something,
I would give it all for a moment with you.

Tear me down and reveal my frailties,
Tear me down and see the truth,
Tear me down and hold me always,
Be my eternal fountain of youth.

Tell me that you will live for something,
Tell me that all of this is true,
Tell me that you could give up something,
To become more than you ever knew.

Tear it down, reveal your beauty,
Tear it down to find your way,
Tear it down, it is now your duty,
To make me smile from day to day.

I'm Afraid

An old poem I found in my journal.



I'm Afraid

My heart is happy, but my head’s on fire,
To see you smile is my only desire.
I’m afraid to speak, so afraid you’ll run,
Afraid it will end before it’s begun.

I lay wide awake and wonder if you
In anyway feel the same way I do?
I send you a message, I just say “Hi,”
But there is no “Hello,” and no “goodbye”.

The Moose on the Loose

The crunch of the dense December snow screamed with each footstep. His every movement was laborious; each moment stretched into an agonizing infinity; but he had to keep moving. He had to make it home alive.

In the dark quiet of the night he was unaware that he had company. He was unprepared for the weather, let alone the creature that eyed him cautiously as he meandered into it's territory.

As he struggled to put one foot in front of the other he became aware that the steady crunch was being echoed ahead of him. He stopped for a moment. It also stopped. He went to step again, then heard a definite crisp crunch of ice before he had chance to place his foot once more. The crunches turned into crashes and he heard the trees ahead clatter and scrape against some Juggernaut of the winter night.

His eyes widened as a lumbering shadow thundered towards his frozen body. He could almost smell the sweat and anger as it cut through the frozen air. Death hurtled towards him but he did not have the strength to move.

This Dream

Back in April I wrote the words below for a collaboration with Rachel Harrison. I've know her for many years due to meeting on DeviantArt back in the day. We did a collaboration, years and years ago, and felt it worth trying again! Hopefully this will become a regular thing :-)

Please go to her blog and show her some love!

http://thegirlrach.wordpress.com



This Dream


In you I found I was not denied
In you I found a place to hide
In you I found that I had died
Because I found that you had lied. 

You lost me in a dream of love
You left me with a broken soul
You lost me in this sphere of love
That often threatens to break us all



The amazing piece of art that I received back is this:

The original piece that we created many moons ago is this:

A Depressing Way to Wake Up

As he awoke he heard a murmur from upstairs.  He could hear the creaking, he could feel the movement. He tried to shut it out, but it kept going like a stuck record, the needle spiking into his spine as he fought to throw the sensation from his mind.

“Fucking bastards,” he groaned as he rolled mournfully into the empty space beside him.

It had been a year since the end, yet as he sprawled in her absence he could feel the cold shape of her body, the ghost of her thigh against his own. His hand grasped where her hair would have been, her dark curls wrapping around his fingers as if they had a mind of their own.  His fingers deftly traced circles along the deathly soft flesh of her neck. He imagined her pale eyes looking back into his; long lashes blinking eternal sleep from her eyes. He leaned in, reaching for a good morning kiss, not caring about her breath, just the tenderness of her affection.
On opening his mouth he tasted the sweat of sleepless nights, tears of loss and anguish, and the dirt of unwashed sheets. He rolled away from the pillow, throwing it from the bed, before choking harshly to cleanse the flavour from his lips. He reached for a towel from the radiator next to his bed, stood up, and wrapped it around his lower half. He walked over to the door, reached for the handle, and stopped. He heard the sound of feet running down the stairs and the slamming of the bathroom door.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he opened the door, scowling at the giggles that escaped from the bathroom.

He stepped into the hallway, past the bathroom, and into the kitchen.  He turned on the kettle, and reached into the cupboard, taking out two cups, throwing a tea bag in one, and pouring coffee granules into the other.  Crossing the cold floor he opened the fridge and took the milk from the door, the chill of the glass bottle causing him to shiver as if someone had stepped on his premature grave.

He poured the milk onto the coffee granules, to prevent them from burning, grabbed the kettle just as it clicked off, and poured the hot water into the two cups.  He stirred the coffee and sipped it gently, savouring the scent of the sweet but bitter aroma.  He slowly sipped his coffee for a couple of minutes, then took the tea bag out of the other cup and stirred in some milk.

Carrying the two cups in one hand he walks back to his bedroom, pushes the door open, and shuts it behind him.  Standing still he suddenly chokes, drops both cups, and falls on his knees, the smashed ceramic digging into his naked flesh.

Blood weeping from his knees, he sobbed into his cupped hands, his mind filling with the emptiness that he has felt since she died.  Looking down he sees that somehow her cup survived the fall, remnants of fragrant tea filling his nostrils.  He picks up the cup and drinks the few drops that are not soaking into the carpet.  The flavour makes him choke, he never liked the flavour, and he would rather have tasted her morning breath than tea on her lips.

Pushing the door shut behind him, he used his towel to mop at the brown stain. Quickly giving up, he crawled back to his bed and buried his head in the mouldy sheets, adding more stains to the decrepit bedding. Closing his eyes to hold in the tears, his mind slowly cleared of the anxiety and he eventually fell once more into the arms of sleep.

12:00 flashes in large green letters on his clock as the alarm invades his eardrums. Lying on his back he stares at the roof with a glazed look across his face.  His hand slaps against the alarm, turning off the invasive beeping.  After a few minutes the radio kicks in, drowning the stillness of his bedroom with perky upbeat pop.

“Fuck off Lily,” he swore angrily as he turned off the radio.

Feeling defeated, he swung his legs back over the side of the bed, wincing with the movement. He stared at his knees, remembering his previous attempt at getting up, and looked around his room. The sodden towel was still next to the door, the half empty tea cup, the broken coffee mug,  and the mess of a year’s worth of unwashed clothes on the floor. To his right was pile of clean clothes, creased on his office chair, where he spent most of his day. The room was his workplace, his living room, his bedroom, his hell of memories and self pity.

His morose was disturbed by a clattering at the front door. He sat still for a moment, then heard footsteps, the shuffling of paper, and then the creak of the floorboard outside of his room. A polite knock echoed in his ears, but he didn’t move. The knock came again. He stood up, but didn’t move.

“John, I know you’re in there,” shouted his housemate.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he replied as he walked to the door.

As he opened the door he stared blearily into the face of Andrew. He eyes looked at him in a concerned yet annoyed way. The same way he’d looked at him for the last six months. He had grown to hate it, but knew it was sincere, and that was why he hated it so much. Sometimes he wished the world would just go away and let him be. Why should it always be there, asking him to be something he wasn’t ready to be?

Lost for a moment, he stared at Andrew’s lips, and realised they were talking to him. He looked back up and said “sorry?”

“Wake up mate, you’ve got some post,” Andrew replied, obviously slightly exasperated. But then he smiled, “come on, it’s Saturday, do something new.”

John stared at him and shrugged.

“Fine, I’m heading out with Chloe; try cleaning your mess up, we both were almost sick when we passed your room when you were making your brew.”

John shrugged again, “Sorry.”

Andrew looked imploringly at John but decided to leave it, “Fine mate, well have a good day.”

John half smiled and said “Cheers, you too.”

Andrew was still behind the door when he shut it, but John could not stand the way he looked at him. He wanted to get away as soon as possible; he knew it was wrong to hate someone for caring, but he just wanted be left alone. Company was torture. Could they not see that it took so much of his sanity to accommodate another person in his head space? He could barely make room for his own thoughts, and sometimes they were terrifying. But what scared him the most was what he saw when he was alone.

*

It had been a dark November evening. He was tired from a day of training end users how to use software. He was walking home, and was dreading getting home to a cold, empty house. It was nights like this that he would normally work late, exhaustion replacing the anxiety of lonely nights reheating yesterdays dinner or throwing freezer food in the oven. The only time he was excited was when he knew she would be waiting for him.

She was always in the kitchen, by the front door, sat reading the paper or listening to the radio. The light always shone like a beacon, drawing him home. When she wasn’t there it was just bungalow with an attic room. Just an empty armchair and an empty bed. He even missed the way she snored. And tonight it was going to be one of those nights.

As he walked he grumbled, the annoying stupidity of humanity seeping out of him as he ranted at the wind. “Problem exists between chair and keyboard,” he snarled. He constantly wondered why he still worked there, but he always came to the same conclusion; he had no idea what he wanted.

As he stepped round the corner he saw a light on in the kitchen, and for the first time that day he smiled. He quickened his pace and started to jog. As he got closer to his driveway he slowed down and crept up to the window. She was sat on a chair in the kitchen engrossed in her broadsheet. Every now and then she ran her fingers through her curls and adjusted the paper to a new reading position. He watched as she lifted her tea cup and drank daintily. He smiled at the sight of her pursed lips. He felt an urge to kiss them, to wrap his arms around her and hold her so close that all that mattered was that feeling, at that time, and he could forget the wearisome world.

*

John stepped into the kitchen and swore. His housemate had moved the chair again. He ran up the stairs and into Andrew’s attic room. He swept Chloe’s clothes from the old wicker and carried it back down to the kitchen. He placed it next to the counter, adjusted it a couple of times, then smiled faintly, but the smile quickly died. He went back to his room and slumped in front of his computer. After staring blankly at the screen for 20 minutes he looked out of the window. Andrew’s words were echoing in his head, “Do something new...”

“What can I do that is new?” he thought.

“New,” the word hung in his mind. He couldn’t think anything else. It hung like a lead balloon, and inflated into every corner of his mind, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t want anything new,” he shouted, “I just want you!”

He dropped his face into his hands and sobbed. Tears ran hot and dry. His eyes burned, and he wished that saline would flood and soothe the pain. He rubbed his eyes, and returned his gaze to the computer screen. The black blank screen of glass made his gaunt reflection even more ghastly. He glared into his eyes, hollow and black, and dared them to show any feeling.

“New.”

The word came to him again, but this time it was not in Andrew’s voice.

He said it aloud himself, “New?” but it still didn’t sound the same. Part of him knew who it sounded like, but he tried to hold it back.

*

“Why don’t you do something new?” she asked, her eyes wide open.

He stared into her baby blues and smiled. They fluttered back at him, concern and love pinioning him. He thought for a moment and rolled his eyes, “but what can I do?”

“You can do whatever you want, you don’t owe your boss anything; you have got to get out of there before it consumes you!” she pleaded.

He knew she was right, but the idea of change, of taking any risk, made him clam up. He knew he was tired, he knew he needed something more, but his brain went into overdrive whenever he tried to think.

She lowered her tone and her smile left her lips, “John, seriously, you need to do something.”

“I know, things are changing, it’ll be better next month,” he sighed, “it always gets better...”

He told himself that lie every day, and sometimes it was true, but he was never happy. Sometimes it was rewarding, sometimes he felt obligated, and other times he just hated every minute of it.

*

The monitor flicked as he twitched his mouse. His work’s intranet site taunted his tired eyes and he scowled. He had no idea why he was thinking of working on a Saturday. It seemed to distract his mind, but it was the reason for why he felt so powerless and trapped. Work was all he had left. She had helped him look for his exit strategy, but she was gone, and work was the only constant, the only support he felt he had. It was his coffin, but it kept him alive.

“New,” he repeated.

He shut down his computer and went into the bathroom. He stepped over his housemates grey boxers and what looked like a lacy catapult. He sighed and stepped into the shower. As the hot water ran over his body his knees screamed at him. He looked down and saw the stale blood running down the plug hole. He laughed at himself, and finished showering. As he stepped onto the bath mat he reached for a towel, but there wasn’t one. He looked at his knees and laughed aloud.

“What an idiot,” he thought. He grabbed the hand towel from by the sink and quickly dried his hair and hands. He held it over his crotch and walked through the hallway and into his bedroom; looking around sheepishly even though he knew everyone was out. He dropped the sodden towel on top of the mess of coffee and pulled on some clean clothes. They clung to his damp flesh, but they felt fresh and warm. He looked in the mirror and swept his dark brown hair to one side. His eyes were clear again, and his pallid skin was clean but dark rimmed under his eyes.

“New,” he muttered again. The words seemed to ring true to part of him. He looked at his squalor and tutted under his breath. He picked up the towels and put them in the wash basket. He gathered up the mess of clothes that littered his floor and split them between wash and bin. He took a load of laundry into the kitchen and then returned to his room with a black sack. He filled it with mouldy old socks and t-shirts that were torn filthy. Once he’d deposited the sack in the kitchen he sat down on the wicker chair and stared at the washing machine.

“New.” He heard it again. It was her voice. He could not deny it anymore; he could hear it so clearly. He looked around, but nobody was there. The voice was only in his head, but it was so clearly hers.
“I miss you,” he said aloud, but there was no reply, just the whirring of the washing machine.

He stood back up, grabbed a dust pan and brush, and went back to tidying his bedroom.
After tackling the floor and the dust, and the piles of paperwork, he stood staring at the bed. He didn’t know how he’d slept on the same sheets for so long. Her scent had only lasted a week before it was replaced by his own sweat and anguish.

“New.”

*

His mobile phone vibrated against his thigh and he fished into his trouser pocket to pull it out. Her face smiled at him from the LCD screen and he grinned back. He was smiling audibly and simply answered, “Hey you.”

“I’ve just arrived at the train station,” she shouted over the sound of the wind blustering down the microphone.

“Okay,” he spoke up, “I’ll be home as soon as I can, sorry I couldn’t meet you at the station.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you soon, don’t work too late?”

“I missed you,” he replied, but she’d already hung up.

He looked back at his computer screen and glared at the clock, willing it to hold still until he’d finished setting up the training session for the next day. Unfortunately it didn’t, and when he left he was scowling at it.

“Six bloody thirty,” he growled as he left the office and walked the gusty mile home.

As he walked home he texted to let her know he was on his way. As he arrived on his street he was surprised that his bungalow was sombre and dark. As he opened the door the alarm beeped, begging to be disabled. He obliged and then turned on the light. The kitchen felt cold. No one had been home all day, and there was no tell tale newspaper covering half the surfaces.

“Where is she?” he pondered as he reached for his mobile phone. He navigated to received calls, and it was soon ringing. It went to voice mail. He tapped his foot in frustration and hung up.

“Where is she?” he said it aloud this time, the annoyance evident in his speech. He pressed call and raised the handset to his ear again. This time the phone rang four times and was answered.

“Where are you?” he exclaimed.

“Hello?” came the reply, a lot manlier than he had expected.

He paused for a moment, then enquired “who is this, and why are you answering Emma’s phone?”

“I’m very sorry,” the man replied, “there’s been an accident.”

*

John smiled as he threw the bedding into the green wheelie bin. He went inside and washed his hands; the refreshing scent of the handwash cleansing his nostrils as well as his palms.

He picked up the wicker chair and carried it back up the stairs. He put it in between the unisex clothes that littered the floor, flung off in the fit of passion, and smiled.

“Good for them,” he thought as he descended the staircase.

He went back into the kitchen and looked out the window, recognising for the first time that the sun was slowly setting. The autumnal skyline aglow with reds and oranges, stray low lying clouds drifting across the last rays of sunlight, and he admired it as if seeing a sunset for the very first time.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. He unlocked the keypad and scrolled through the contacts. Eventually he found what he was looking for and stroked his chin thoughtfully. He bit his lip and pressed call.

Each ring made his fingers twitch in anticipation.

After nine unnerving tones his bosses voice answered, “Hi John, what’s up?”

“Hi Frank,” he greeted pleasantly, then firmly said, “I quit,” and hung up.

The word echoed one last time in his mind, “New.”

If I care about you

If I care about you
Then I invite you
To be part of my life,
To matter to me.

If I care about you
You are raised high
Held above the world
And counted free.

If I care about you
I will hold you close
And ensure that you
Are never cast adrift.

If I care about you
You have my heart
It will not falter
It is my gift.

All I Need

All I need
All I need is you
All I need is you smiling
All I need is you smiling and knowing
All I need is you smiling and knowing that I
All I need is you smiling and knowing that I caused it
All I need is you smiling,
because when you do,
it's beautiful.

Starshine

The moon has ruled too long,
and I haven’t heard your song;
The sky has been too bright
to see your lonesome light.

Come back and sing your song,
I hope it won’t be long,
Till I see you gleaming smile
And talk with you awhile.

You shine much more than most,
Yet you’re the last to boast,
Of what you have inside;
Your beauty can’t be denied.

Come back and sing your song,
I hope it won’t be long,
Till I see you gleaming smile
And talk with you awhile.

I envy your sojourn,
And wish for your return,
Don’t stay away too long;
Return and sing your song.

Come back and sing your song,
I hope it won’t be long,
Till I see you gleaming smile
And talk with you awhile.

Come home and stay for tea,
Don’t stay across the sea,
Come back to those who care
And wish that you were there.

Come back and sing your song,
I hope it won’t be long,
Till I see you gleaming smile
And talk with you awhile.

A simple dream

Oh to dream once more

Of clouds that soar

So many miles overhead

Whilst I am laid in my bed;

To see you once more,

And tell you I adore

Your beautiful smile,

As I lay there a while,

So relaxed and carefree,

My head upon your knee.

Luxuriantly

Her thighs are spread before me,
I rest my hand atop her knee
I breath in deeply, scenting her musk,
My eyes settling and admiring her bust.

My fingers dance on her flesh,
Delighting in a lust so fresh,
Trailing lightly and exploring deftly
As she sighs and moans
luxuriantly.

The Plum's New Tail

Eric picked up a plum and bit gently into the sweet morsel. "One of my five a day" he thought. Eric was not the most exciting of people. His mind rarely escaped the dull drudgery of his daily existence. What happened next may well be the most exciting thing that happened all day, all week, all month, all year, or even... all of his life.
Barry was also eating a plum. It just so happened it was the same plum. The purple skin surrounded his middle as he squeezed slowly into the succulent juicy flesh. He slowly munched and wriggled his way through translucent yellow mulch.
Eric nibbled a bit more and paused to look at the small brown solid stone in the middle of the plum. It almost appeared to be moving. He watched  for a moment, then stuck a finger and thumb around the stone and tugged it free with a mild squelch.
Barry looked up at Eric.
Eric looked down at Barry.
"Erm..." started Barry.
"Bleurgh!!!" screamed Eric as he dropped the plum, and Barry, to the floor.
"Oi," shouted Barry, "watch it!"
Eric looked down, his face changing from disgust to astonishment.
Barry glared up at him, but Eric couldn't tell, he just saw a little worm wiggling at him.
"What you looking at?" asked Barry indignantly, "you're the one who ruined my lunch!"
Eric didn't know what to say, he just stared, open mouthed, and retched slightly.
Barry watched Eric, and started to feel slightly guilty. Neither of them had noticed each other, it wasn't really Eric's fault, as much as it wasn't Barry's. Barry decided to try and break the ice.
"Well you appear to have finished your half, I'll finish off mine if that is OK with you?" he inquired.
Eric didn't know quite what to do, he was quite taken aback by everything that had happened. In fact, he felt like he should have a lie down. Unfortunately, his body had already decided this, and he slumped to the floor, fainting from all the excitement.
"How rude," muttered Barry before finishing his lunch.

The Park

I tremble as I sit by your side
Your hand running slowly down my thigh
As I look into your eyes they open wide
And I listen to your delicious sighs.

My arms hold you tight as you rest
Yet I can sense the yearning in your breast
As you rest your head on my chest
I know your thoughts even though they are unexpressed.

Tell the Truth

This is a poem from last year, there's the odd part I like about it.


When I told the truth
I broke down my barriers
I hope it was not uncouth
And you forgive my frankness

It has all shaken loose
And I will let go
But only if you choose
To admit what you show

My heart is still bleeding
But I am not afraid
My blood is still pumping
With passion to be shared

Don’t run from your feelings
What your heart says is true
What can be more appealing
Than being me and also you.

Strange Water

I stand above your blacked surface,
An expanse I cannot measure.
I shudder at your unsightly purpose,
The secret of my displeasure.

I came to you three nights before
To feed you with my bounty.
I gave you that which I abhor,
As if it were my duty.

She will ne'er be bothered by the tide,
Or washed ashore like flotsom,
You swallowed deep my deathly bride,
Weighed deep within your bosom.

I kneel before your depth of woe,
Drawn back by my disgrace,
I crawl until I'm head to toe,
Lost deep beneath your surface.

Beauty - An Exercise

This is a writing exercise based on Beauty; at some point I may pull these lines apart and find a poem.


Beauty can drive you crazy
Beauty can make you insane
Beauty can change your outlook
Beauty can cause you pain

Beauty is not your equal
Beauty is the fall of man
Beauty is all you wish for
Beauty is where it began

Beauty will give you heartache
Beauty will be your guide
Beauty will waste to nothing
Beauty will be set aside

Beauty has taken you captive
Beauty has stolen your soul
Beauty has changed you forever
Beauty has swallowed you whole

Beauty knows nothing of substance
Beauty knows it will not last
Beauty knows that you desire it
Beauty knows it is surpassed

Beauty was nothing without you
Beauty was not what you thought
Beauty was more than just pleasure
Beauty was not to be caught

Beauty does not understand you
Beauty does as it will please
Beauty does what will placate it
Beauty does nothing but tease

Beauty may ask what you’re thinking
Beauty may seem more than lust
Beauty may not live forever
Beauty may not earn your trust

Beauty shall know temptation
Beauty shall be denied
Beauty shall take the burden
Burden shall know that you lied

Beauty should be everlasting
Beauty should hold no fears
Beauty should lead your heartstrings
Beauty should shed no tears

Beauty cannot be forgiven
Beauty cannot live within
Beauty cannot find redemption
Beauty cannot dwell with sin

The Dinosaur in my Bedroom

5 minute story




She clattered on the door, scratching for the handle. Each scrape sent shivers down my spine as I waited expectantly.
The door crept open slowly, swinging inwards towards me, hiding the intruder from sight. Moments later her head appeared above the handle, her eyes searching hungrily for prey.
I moved slightly and she spotted me. Her eyes pinned me to my bed. I could not move.
She shot into the room, blocking my only exit with her smile. She grinned at me and hopped hungrily onto my bed. I lay prone, waiting to be devoured.
She licked her lips and pounced.

Lightning Rider

5 minute story

Today was the last day that Edward was hit by lightning. Over the years he had been struck four times, which, to his friends, had earnt him the name "Lightning Rider".

Little did he know what truly happened, just that he was alone in the wind and rain, then the next minute he was waking up with a gap in his memory.

Today it was different. He had watched the storm for a while and walked outside. He felt drawn to the warm rain, cleansing and fresh on his face, his clothes tautened against his figure.

He looked up and saw a flash. He saw the earth disappearing beneath him. He passed through a portal and smiled at the grey faces that peered at him.

"Welcome back," one said, "go to the viewing deck, you can watch the devastation from there. Your insight over the years has been of much help."

The Lost Yeti

5 minute story


He lay on his side in the cage, his back to the bars. What appeared to be his large hairy head was tucked into his long hairy arms.
From a distance, or even close up, there was just one word that eveyone used to describe him, "hairy." Somehow this had even become his name in the enclosure. They had even taught him to respond to it.
Today the sun scorched through the bars and tried to warm his chilly form. He was so still, hairy and still, but to his captors this was no different to any other day.
To Hairy it wasn't. It was his one hundred and third birthday. Also it was the last day he drew breath, for everyone of yeti birth knows, one hundred and three is the day you became a lost yeti.

Falling Star

5 minute story




Henry sat at the bar and scowled at the peanuts. He picked one up between thumb and forefinger, aimed and flicked it straight out of the window.
"Ow," cried a mysterious voice.
Henry raised an eyebrow in surprise, then looked to the bar door. A young woman walked in, a hand clutched to her left eye, cursing under her breath. She looked around until she spotted the toilets and rushed towards them.


Henry shook his head and placed it between his hands. He stared at the stage, where he should be performing, and sighed.
"What's the point," he muttered dejectedly.
As he continued to stare miserably at the peanuts he noticed that the girl was now at the bar. She was arguing with the barman, then turned to look at Henry. She was wearing a Henry t-shirt.

The Old Gods

5 Minute Story

They sat at the bar watching the TV in the corner.

"Tutt" said the tallest as he sat watching the news, " they just don't fear any more."

"True" said the oldest, "it's as if we lost to our adversaries."

"Maybe we just let those heroic upstarts make them think they didn't need us anymore" said the tallest.

"Yup" came the reply "if they still believed in me I would have prevented that earthquake in the blink of an eye."

"Of course, of course" muttered the tallest. 

"Mind, I'd have asked for a sacrifice for my troubles". 

At The End Of The Machine War

5 minute story


They stood by the battlefield, silent and thoughtful.


The mud was a mix of earth, blood, and metal. Pools of oil mingled with rivers of blood as they burned the bodies of the fallen. Broken machines were cut up and carted away in dumper trucks. Those that still moved were silenced.


As they looked away they could still hear the odd cry for help and screech of steel.

Pink Lollipop Dragon

5 MinuteStory

Skree and Firey sat at the bar staring at the menu. The name on the cover was "Pink Lollipop Dragon". Skree and Firey looked at each other and raised a scaly eyebrow.
"Oh dear," they both seemed to say.

Looking down at the list confirmed their fears, 'Rainbow Scale Shooters', 'Sex on the beach with a black russian dragon'. 

The barmaid skulked over and asked lispilly, "What can I get you boys?"

Without a pause both of they responded "Fire Breath Beer."

The barmaid asked "are you two together?"

"No" they responded in unison.

The barmaid winked and a false eyelash fell in the glass she was polishing, "Right you are."

Floating Chair

5 minute story




He sat in the Spanish sunshine, his sunglasses hiding his dilated pupils. He stared across the pool, admiring the odd scantly clad feminine physique, often lingering so long that they cast him a glance, or their boyfriend or husband glared scornfully. Still, he was impervious behind his sunglasses. Eventually his gaze went to the pool; at it's centre floated the undisturbed trophy of the package holiday, an inflatable chair.
He rose unsteadily from his sun lounger and stumbled towards the pool, tripped on a flagstone and fell to his knees. He arose quickly and kept on towards his goal, ignoring the stinging gashes that bled darkly on his sunburnt skin.
As he reached the pool he belly flopped into the chlorine, a line of blood leading anyone towards him. He doggy paddled to the chair and tried to mount it. Once, twice, three times he tried, but couldn't settle.
Frustrated, he returned to his sun lounger, beaten by a floating chair.

Clay Skull

5 Minute Story

Jenni sat in art class with a ball of heavy clay between her fingers. She stared at her teacher and scowled at his faux art school demeanour and his tight tight jeans.

She stared at the clay and focused all of her anger on its  cool damp texture. As her feelings took shape her fingers moved intricately over the clay. 

As the clock ticked 11am the school bell rang and she was suddenly aware she was alone with Mr Tight Jeans. She stared at her creation, a clay skull. She scowled at its unearthly grimace and threw it at the wall.

Her teacher barely flinched. He just said "Detention."

A Love that Dies

Wrote this quite passionately earlier tonight. Thinking of trying to tidy it up a bit, it's very pure at the moment, which I like, but I would love to spend some time on it and turn it into a Sonnet.

A Love than Dies

There is no suffering more mournful,

Nor terror more frightening,

Than the sorrow in your soul of a love that dies.

Whether tis the heart that stops beating,

Or a heart that stops loving,

It is a pain that must be endured

For the rest of your life.

Your heart must keep beating,

Your heart must keep loving,

Else the thoughts and the memories were nought but lies.

Be one with your anguish,

Be one with your regret,

Be one with your heart songs,

Be one with your fate.

You will always remember,

You will never forget,

Your heart will keep beating,

So please do not fret.

Can you hear the rain fall

Can you hear the rain fall, can you hear what it says?

Can you hear the tears of a child as it prays?

If you hear the helpless, if you hear the winds,

You won't fear the darkness, or the pain that it brings.

If you can bear witness, if you can stand tall,

If you can be willing to accept you will fall;

You will keep loving, you will be loved,

You will be heralded by he who is love. 

I am everything and nothing

This is a bit of a random one I wrote a month or so ago. Not sure what to make of it. Let me know what you think?


I am everything and nothing


I am desire I am redemption

I am your strength and your destruction

Nothing can compare to how I feel

Nothing can compare to my touch

I am everything and nothing

I am beauty and I am damned

I am the source of your redemption

I am damned by your addiction.

The Vampire

Give me your passion, give me your all
Don’t be afraid to take a fall
Life is for living, don’t have regrets
Live for this moment, be one with my sex.

I’ll give you pleasure, I’ll take the pain,
I’ll make it so real that the memories remain.
Don’t lose this feeling, don’t let me go,
I’ll give and I’ll take more than you know.

I am a vampire, I feed on your soul,
To make you mine is my only goal.
I’ll tear you apart, take you into my world
I’ll slowly destroy you then start to rebuild.

Give me your pleasure, give me your pain

Give me your pleasure, give me your pain,
I will take them apart and prove they’re the same.
You cannot attribute one without the other
In pain there is pleasure beyond all measure.

Darkness surmounts you, glory in its grasp
Take from its offerings, do as it asks.
Don’t run for freedom, it’s in your head,
Lying right beside you, a beast in your bed.

It won’t deny you, if you would only ask
To be all you are, and remove your mask
You have a beauty, I cannot dispel
Darkness is falling slowly under your spell.