Close your eyes and imagine you’re walking on a pebble beachCan you feel the sharpness of rocks tickle beneath your feet?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately, perhaps a little too much; to the point of almost kidding myself into thinking the words that I write are actually acknowledged and soaked up by someone from somewhere in the world.
This story is dedicated to the woman who saved my lifeMy rock and my angel, the one to be my wife
Some folk are pulled about by the umbilical cord of the wombBuild them an empire and it’ll still be the prison encased inside a tomb
On the darkest hour of twilight, Kings Cross station looks rather peaceful from a bird's eye view.
My eyes are bleeding out the back of my skull and I’m feeling drowsy.