Monthly Archives: December 2010


Kept awake in the dark
with the patter of rain
he sounds like a high-speed
underground train.



Treat your sprouts well this Christmas
Make sure you don’t overboil them
They feel overlooked
When they’ve been overcooked
And it’s not fair to only include them
Because you feel like you have to
They’ve already got a complex
They’re stuck in limbo
‘Cause they only come out at Chrimbo
One year after the next
For all of their methane misdemeanours
It’s not their fault that they make you fart
With a little finesse
And a little oil dress
They can be a work of art
So why not chop up some bacon
Or some chestnuts (if you’re that way inclined)
Score them with care
Add some chilli if you dare
And I guarantee that you will find
That sprouts are the king of the dinner
Why not give them a little salt crown?
Serve them with honey
And you’re in the money
With a dish that’ll make Oliver frown
Sprouts may have a bad reputation
But they really are cool vegetables
They come on a stalk
And fit nicely on your fork
And look princely sat upon your table
They’re a multi-use foodstuff, you know?
For all of their miniature flaws
When the long stalk’s leftover
Get a mate over
And then recreate ‘Star Wars’
Sprouts have feelings, you see
Why not name them in the tray?
Last year I ate Brian
John, Gary and Ryan
With a little hot butter and bay
They like to feel like they matter
They’re so used to feeling left out
It’s not fair to use their name
For your personal gain
They end up full of self doubt!
So treat your sprouts well this Christmas
Make a vow to eat them each week
Eat them al dente
Enjoy them, and then they
Won’t just feel like Christmas freaks.

the suicide.

Cold glass, jagged
and sharp, kisses the tips
of my fingers,
spewing out rubies onto the
cold white tiles
of this sterile tomb
as I look at my reflection
and peel it away,
ashamed to look at the
fallacy that was once myself.

I see a shredded image of the past.
Was I ever young?
Was I ever beautiful?
I longingly await a reply
that will never arrive
for you are older and you have your women
and your cars
and your cigars.

Now, my eyes don’t cry –
they excrete.

The fat girl within me wants
to eat.

Instead, as calm as a
general at gunpoint
I take to my wrists.
It’s easy – those websites were true.
Who’d have thought?
Just like chopping spuds
or beef tomatoes.

In an exhausted haze, I turn to myself
to look at the present
and now, I am red
so very red
and my eyes are red
and my mouth
and my neck
and my hands

She still wants to eat.

It never occurs to me
that as I sit there
bleeding my past to the tiles
you may be thinking of

Instead I think of
her face, and your ecstasy
and the moment we locked eyes
as she revelled in your deliciousness

Now I’ve fucked us all.

things i don’t understand.

I never did quite understand why
people put holes through their lobes
and ink on their skin
and dye in their hair

I never did quite comprehend how much
of the world is covered in water
and how the sea can be deeper
than a mountain is high

I never did quite believe how many
people thought it was fine
to bury a woman in sand to her neck
and throw rocks at her expression

I never did quite grasp how
people attach themselves to a ‘scene’
and become slaves to Jack Wills
and highlighted hair

I never understood fake spectacles.

I never did quite fathom why
a woman from the west can buy shoes
costing more than a house
on the Goan coast

and why I can wear skirts
and tattoo my skin
and add/remove/rinse/repeat

I never did quite get the concept of
advanced mathematics
when all it truly consists of
is four symbols

I never wanted to learn
how they make hotdogs
but you found it hilarious to tell me
and you ruined my childhood

I never did quite accept
that sometimes a man can love a woman
so much and with so little understanding
that he has to abuse her

I never did quite master
the art of wearing lipstick

and I will never truly appreciate
just how much you mean to me
so take these half-arsed lines

and be satisfied

so, it seems i’m an idiot.

I asked the question
you made the suggestion
and before I knew it
there I was
toes curling as my chest jutted
over the precipice
and though I’d agreed to this
I don’t think I truly
thought it through.

It’s easy to say
in your inimitable way
that things are easier said than done
but I like to disprove
and I like to move
off my arse instead.

We all know full well
that once an idea is planted
it is truly only a matter of time
before I cash in
and make another attempt
to ruin my existence.

Two broken femurs
a shattered elbow
cracked jaw black eyes splintered shins
What have I learned about myself?

That it’s never a good idea
to make a deal when pissed.