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Endless Game
As the boy plays tennis on his own through the terrible nights, through the hideous days, people wonder, how does he live under spotlights and sun, smeared across cement like paint? Kids stare behind the eyes of their glowing cigarettes; lonely women take snaps on telephoto lenses; and Hare Krishnas dance to the rhythm of beat-up tennis balls. The boy floats around lines—relentless and…
Scenes with my Son
My son is two years old, he lies on a bed of thorns, it’s a sterile crimson scene with a language of its own. My son is fifteen now, toying with his tongue, bleeding on demand, miming to the music. My son is nearly forty, he kneels before the court, he’s a movie in the making with water on the brain and a forest in his lungs. My son is seventy-five, he’s a bucket full of rain on his way to…
Hair
You tear a clump of hair from your lice-ridden scalp and let it scatter through the fog. Cancerous and lean, your tinted roots scream lies. You don’t care; you don’t feel a thing— it’s a scribbled list forgotten in your pocket. You gaze into my eyes searching for the East, as lunacy and myth pervade your rotten gums. You’re the darkness shifting through the light, and the moon jousting with the…
The Stain
I’m gazing at an electric blue swimming pool splash— a David Hockney LA human stain. I spit on the frame and embrace the zonal fallout as sun lines expose planetary loss. I can’t sleep— my dreams are stained with guillotines and ringtones seeping into arcade tears. I stand two feet and fifty morse code blinks apart from my girlfriend. She texts me with blood-filled mosquito emojis but I have to…
Love Bombing
When we love bomb you it’ll hurt at first—your scalp will sting and your knees will buckle. After a long night’s feral blast, you’ll crack your teeth on the toilet sink and shed a thousand tears. As you crawl through the curtain’s edge, you’ll find yourself on Route 66 spread out by a deadened river, begging for mercy. But we’ll think about you all the time—your quantum mind, your sculpted body,…
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When Scully From The X-Files Steps Into Your Life After You've Lied To Your Friends For The Very Last Time
You’re in your local diner bragging about the Nordic-type aliens who abducted you from an IKEA carpark, and force-fed you Chinese food from The Blue Dragon Cafe, where slaves cook heavenly spring rolls. After a belly full of duck noodles, the beings screened you Mean Streets in an anti-gravity cinema, with platinum 3D specs. Your mates scoff and sneer, but luckily Scully stumbles out of the…
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Falling Away
My body’s starting to fail me – my back aches and I’m exhausted most of the day. I can still climb the stairs, but my wife’s not there waiting for me anymore, squatting on the landing, tugging on a loose strand of carpet with a smile that says she’s not long for this world. I feel like smashing the balustrades and digging up the floorboards. But instead, I pace around the kitchen as toast burns,…
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Sleeping Around
Karen woke to flourishing petals on her shoulder and the warmth of a distant sea. Eyes open – a vision of a man leaning into a pillow, calling a satellite near the moon. Karen was glad and yet she didn’t remember his name plus he could work in bloody finance. She needed to stop going to bars near skyscrapers. Turning to her nightstand there was another man, licking his wallet, pulling his socks…
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