6. Porcelain

I ordered a coffee. Didn’t really want much. It was an espresso. I had ended up in a small, brown artisanal coffee-house after walking to clear my head. From one room to another. I was supposed to meditate earlier, but I said I’d do it later. The constant phone notifications wouldn’t exactly let me forget. I stood to the right side of the counter, beside the pastries, surveying the barista making my coffee as politely as possible. It wasn’t exactly covert in hindsight — just a guy looking up and down from his phone. I’d already picked a seat on the sofa by the wall, close to the window. After bringing my drink there, I laid my left shoulder, with all my body weight, upon the glass window pane — letting the window-frost cool my face. I’d been overthinking lately so there I was: Overheating. I looked around to see all the other people who had nothing else to do that day. People laughing, people talking; Some reading, some working and some minding their own business. The beauty of earphones. All whilst two floating aprons hovered around, clearing tables in the background. I dragged my chin back over my shoulder, scanning the coffee shop: Groups of bohemian art students on the right, two roughly twenty-somethings on what seemed like a date on the mid-right, an elderly couple dressed like twenty-somethings flanking them on their left, while on the mid-left: a girl reading a book with headphones on, and to the far-left: a litter of what-seemed-to-be introverted bookworms. Bohemian in nature too, it seemed. Before I resumed loitering, I quickly rose my head — checking to see if anyone had interrupted themselves to notice how weird I was being. They had not. But as a side note: I had never seen so much leather, oak, and ambient lighting in one space ever in my life. Artisanal coffee to pay for an artisanal commune, genius of a scam. I wish I’d thought of it. No tickets to pay for, just the choice of coffee or awkward looks from part-time graphic designers. But anyway, I sipped my coffee. Slurping with my tongue, hugging onto the underbelly of the porcelain cup, as I vacuumed the hot beverage in the most European fashion I could embody. I then sat, just staring at the pavement outside — my heavy head grailed into my right hand, staring at oblivion, letting my thoughts pass me by. I thought for a while. Just silent, contemplating. Staring at my coffee. It was all a dead man’s game now: I had fled towards the metaphysical planes, and I was already there. I sipped my coffee some more but there wasn’t much left. It was slowly getting colder and heavier, morphing, degrading, degenerating, and I could see the coffee stains ring the inside of the white porcelain coffee cup. Here I was: Lost in translation. And yet, I still had to go home and face my demons.

Some time passed by, and conversations would brush my ear, cars would brush my left eye’s vision. Ambient noise would complement the dimming ambient lights. At this point, other thoughts continued to plague my mind instead of my own. I sat by the window as I watched the rainfall – blank, vacant, but clear at least. I sat doing nothing — somehow awkwardly; Sitting at a four-chair table, alone. Sipping at my cold coffee for twenty-second intervals. The humming of the food fridge played bass to the shop’s shit Spotify playlist. The coffee maker machines followed in accordance. And in my blank stare, my mind allowed in a retrospective of the small but unfortunate events that led me here. Shit. A cultivation and collaboration of mildly disastrous happenings leading towards hopelessness, pain, and confusion. Great… Now abstracted, I stared, at the coffee cradled in my hand. I remembered waking up – No hot water. Checking the meter – No hot water. Canceling my day – No hot water. Wanting to walk down to the coffee shop because – No hot water. Each level just weighed me down and brought other issues with them. Dragging me down lower and lower, deeper and deeper until I couldn’t stay there anymore, otherwise I’d drown. All-of-a-sudden I woke up. I raised my head violently, whipping my head left and right to see if anyone had noticed me daydreaming. Luckily not. My banality kept me camouflaged. I scratched the back of my head, unaware of the floating sweater vests coming in and out in front of me. The mud in my cup had gone cold: I officially had no place there now. I looked out of the window again, staring at the cold evening sky. Just staring. Blue with golden twinkles. I was ogling at the powerlines hanging in the foreground. The birds fluttered in the background, and the clouds dressed beyond. Distracted in observation, my brain faded, suspended in absence. Pungent in emotion, my heart took this chance to speak, bringing forth dreams and movies to my eyes. The bastard… In clarity, I read the questions posed as problems and saw the hints to the code. Problem by problem I unveiled a letter.







A door opened.

door opens






I didn’t.




That one was hard. It took me a good minute to realise.





This was all a shock to me. I had no idea what my heart was trying to tell me; It was encoded. All I knew was: I was getting to know myself for once.

But there was still something left to the puzzle.

I would come to realise that I was afraid that I wouldn’t become the person I wished to end up being, and I’d, instead, become a cog in the machine of a retail job for the rest of my life. But not before knowing why.







The last door opened.

I walked through.

“Oh my fucking God…”

Holy shit.




And there it was: My reason.

Nothing else was needed, all my questions had been answered.

The porcelain had cracked.

All that was left to ask was:

What do I do now?


5. Sweet Release (Open−Plan)

4. Repeat

Like a kaliedoscope they glittered above me. Crystallising from thin air. A crown of angels. Like jewels they danced before me, wailing and hailing “Levi, King of Sorrows!”. So I hailed back:

“What the fuck do you want?”

They said nothing,

———————– but one angel drew near.

She lowered my jaw, dabbed her finger on my tongue, then — BANG!

I’m tripping.

(It was like getting shot in the head with a 9mm.

All I wanted was a glass of water…)



It just started as any other winter day. I was bored, stuck inside and family was gone. I had nothing to do so I was just watching Netflix, then I asked myself, “Do I still have acid?”. I remembered that I had some left from when Martin came over. So I said “fuck it, I guess I could do some”. I had half-a-tab in my sock draw anyway. So I got out of bed and reached for the top draw, pulling it out and scooping under all my hand grenade shaped socks to find the tab. “Where is it?…”, A-ha! We’ve got something going here now…

(Talk about initial room settings, briefly, use an action, e.g. getting a glass of water(but delaying it by saying”nah, I’ll just get it later”). Details, Details, Details)

I closed the draw and hopped back into bed, this time in a seated position.

Peeping at the stamp-sized bagee I sift air through my nose, taking one tuck of air into my lungs. I inspected the bagee, seeing the smiley face stare back at me and envisioned all the endless possiblities. I stared for a bit too long. Hopefully my mum doesn’t come back early. I swayed my head just for one last check to see if anyone from the other end of the street can see the bagee of LSD through my window. No? Okay. I pulled the sealing apart, opening the thing like a packet of crisps, and with much grace I dragged the half-tab of acid out of the bag. This thing was colourful. Saturated would’ve been more appropraite. With not much thought I fed the thing into my mouth – laying it just under my tongue. Heart beat was already rising but that was just me being excited. I kicked my feet up the floorand transfer back to lying down on my bed looking at the cieling. Oh boy.

I grew bored of waiting. Netflix wasn’t doing much for me so I said ‘fuck this’, and reached into my pocket to pull my phone out of my pocket. Unlocked it, swiped it, tapped it, watched it. As usual, I scrolled down and again but first double tap then -scroll, double tap, scroll, double tap, scroll, …, nah, scroll, double tap. It would carry on and on and then things started to change… (Talk a bit about the environment getting manipulated, then specific objects in the next paragraph. Obstacles? e.g. Getting a glass of water again)

(The station – opn, rough 7, nevermind – nirvana, too late – washed out, Denzel Curry first album)

2. Take-off -Slight wavering of surroundings/visions


(Kandinsky, monet, youth culture photography) (Blank banshee, gunna, radiohead, tame impala let it happen bathroom song, Szerencsétlen)

A burst of vertigo disrupts my sense of orientation. My sight zooms in and zooms out. I ‘ping!’ out raising my head, stretching my neck like a phone cord, to the Gods. The room metamorphised into a sphere in which a lens is clear cut: Stretching the me like fabric. Each hemisphere of my brain is pulsating, sending wifi signals from my cortex all over the place. Like infrared, my bloodshot eyes autofocus onto the beams bouncing off the walls and mirrors. Light, sound, and colour all taste of gasoline, and the drip the back of my throat tastes of stardust.

3. Turbulence – Disruption into waves (Breaking into the new reality)

Astronomically fucked. Stupendously cogni-fucked. Mentally-ridden without a saddle by Jupiter himself. Why do my feet feel like they’re floating? Oh fuck, my frontal lobe crystalised, meta-cementing itself, contracting like a bicep. I shouldn’t have taken so much… My head expands under the constriction of my headphones. Absorbing the music and the distortion it caused to my vibrating ears, I could feel myself shapeshifting. Like a remote a was now attuned to multiple frequencies at once. I could feel the tectonic plates of my brain grind against each other. FUCK! My eyes would flash and I’d transport each time. My head fell heavy and my neck grew weak. My fingers pulsated with rushing blood running through them. The plasma electrified my fingertips. My legs numbed – It felt like I had flew to space and my legs had detatched so I can burn the turbo chargers. I could feel my feet which were telling me that we had left the earth’s gravity, while my eyes still said there’s a ceiling above me. My vision was washing and waving, everything was fading, I would move my hands across my face and see ten fingers overlapping in a blurry motion. Almost as if a video broken into stills. I saw the colours that surrounded me, fizzing before my eyes – Hazing in grain. I watched upon the heavens where millions and millions of seats were booked in to see me perform this life that I live every day and cheer me on my everyday fight and struggle to win the battle over myself and the forces that conspire against me. I fell to my knees at the introduction to my insignificance. Seeing stars, black holes and nebulae that rivaled the size of my ego and won by a landslide. I felt the grasp of he universal forces hold me in place and peel off my ego and discard it before me like rotten orange skin. Here, I was face to face with my very own ego, seeing it, it’s flaws and it’s hold that it’s had over me for the past ten years. It was at that moment I truly started to witness a vision. But then– Holy shit… Holy shit! I see angels! I see angels, what the fuck?


Oh Boy… All was loud. Nothing but confusion and loud jazz. Nothing was certain, everything I saw was improvised. Matter became illusion and abstract turned all to constructs and concepts. SHOW DON’T TELL.

It took a minute. Bangs and clashes produced thunderstorms in my head, lightning stricking my being. Clenches and half-seizures fought my being. Sectoins Locked, the rigidity caused my brain to harden. The resistence defied itself. The love was still sober. But after poured juice of heaven-water, seasoning the thoughts and intects and flavoring the state of my mind. The clouds unseamed, dissapating like steam form a kettle, the moisture lead to dry clarity.

A surge of plasma radiated from my skull, and my head split open like a banana peel. I dived back into a pool of metaphorical water, drowning out the droning sounds of the local estate beyond my windows. I swear to fucking God I’d never splashed like that.(Gerard Richter, Francis Bacon, illusion techniques)

— Carousel ends/break from the pattern

“You never die so there’s no sweet release.”

4. Ascension(Broken through the clouds/Enlightenment/letting go/arrival)

A minute of silence. The winds stop. The walls remain. I take a deep breath. Nothing happens. The fluid recoils of tenderness wriggle through my brains crevices. Frequencies jostle through my brain meat and I my head balloons, expanding beyond these walls of skin. I don’t know what to do, so I just laid there and let the sprites take over me. First I could feel my first, then I could scrunch my sheets feeling it’s magnimonious texture, dry and crisp like draft paper. I clinged on only to let go and slowly sink into my mattress with duvet engulfing me. It took me a good minute to realise I didn’t know what I was doing. But the music wouldn’t stop. It only got louder and louder. The sound was translucent like plastic, colouring my lucid dream. In ephemera and ecstacy I smiled, then laughed, then I screamed. I screamed. I was free, I was happy. I was in love. The hands of the grip and slid its way down from my neck. Loosening my tie. I laid there jacked up and expanded. Spirit and soul, unlocked. I closed my eyes and just became. My toes loosened, my shoulders dropped, my smile cracked. I was lighter than ever and I had sung, all __ became harmonious. Layered onto each other. Poetry was made, balance was retained, I hovered and hallucinated, letting go. My third day had come, I rose from my soul, out of my body and I span, leaking into the air and absorbing into stratosphere.

I would end only fall asleep.

7. Deliverence

(mattattack426, howiewonder, mr.babies, simplicity, da vinci codex)

Now slowly sinking into darkness, with my eyes closed, a being offerred it’s hand out to me. It was me. (Travelling through james turrell coloured rooms, until finally in white one with open ceiling, the court of doves)

(I became light) Sinking into my dream, I saw myself being sacrificed. Mid-air my skin shredded, my muscle fibres unravelled like ribbons. My fat within my breasts disolved and my body fizzled into noise, shedding all that barred flight. All that was left as a pale, gelatinous, mould of a human being. Evaporating into gas, the figure open its eyes with yellow beams shooting from it’s eyes. With it’s eyes open it rose from the slab, higher within the infinite white. With a pale yellow radiating behind it, I saw the infitine black constrict from the sides. With open arms, floating, the being looked at me, then looked up, letting itself fade out. The with one last suck-in, it blew white across the dimensions

5. Cruise/Voyage/En route — moving forward. Shortest one.

I awoke the next day, nonchalant to what had just happened, to a new life, a new repetition, a new routine. I rolled around, looking for my phone: It was nine a.m. I heard my call. I sat up in bed, feeling better. Something felt right. My room was fine, and my mum wasn’t back yet. I transitioned towards the edged of my bed. The sun was rising, the house was clean. In astonishment, no one was home, and I was alone. How it should be. Refreshed from the depths of my dream, knocked out and revitalised, I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, watching the skyline. I drank my water then stepped back. I stopped to reflect on everything achieved and encountered within the last 12 hours. I realised my fate and I accepted my new course:

Take-off. Turbulence. Ascension. Repeat.

I awoke feeling like shit(Show don’t tell). My mouth was dry, it felt like Arizona. My joints aching and stiff. I went out to the toilet, pulled my trousers down, and whipped out the little one. My piss was coloured in rust. I stretched, tearing the strands that make my flesh. My face wrinkled, droopy, oiled. Somehow still flaky. I felt like shit, but I didn’t forget what happened.

Use last paragraph to really use some poetic language; look at photos by @ howie wonder, mr babies and mattattack426 and bridget riley, george condo and Francis Bacon. Look into illusion techniques, brain puzzles, kaleidoscopes and the da vinci codex. Regular show too. Expand it then condense it. Bring some of the story from the previous draft too. Listen to high music.

Bland muted Contasting- colourful Colourful Light

neutreal(Still give it some punch Sand Hard Soft Fluid

The universe becomes my stadium.

Use writing notes from journals, finish adding ket experiences, read some science things, watch recounts of lsd experiences

Add sensing and intuitive details and actions of environment in first paragraph

Add rejected material below

A surge of plasma radiated from my skull, and my head split open like a banana peel. I dived back into a pool of metaphorical water, drowning out the droning sounds of the local estate beyond my windows. I swear to fucking God I’d never splashed like that. My eyes flashed white while my brain fried and my fingers retracted like sushi rolling matts.

I was getting shot in the head with a 9mm. Suddenly I was bending backwards towards the ground from which I came and felt the colours surrounding me, fizzing towards eyes. My vision was washing and waving oh-no, here we go again. I think I’m tripping.


out of touch, out of place, out of this world

Kurt Vonnegut tips

Edit like last time

reading through your writing a few times to tighten and tweak, though – but an important part of the process to get used to – you might want to print it and write on the sheets, or save different copies so you can see the evolving versions)

Refer to notebook and board, then add to board from note book

Use notes from notes app for porcelain and add to board

Add urban elements of room

Make sure it’s all one tense

Take-off. Turbulence. Ascension. Repeat.


4. Mars

(Mars, God of Rage)

I’m not a bad guy. I don’t rub people the wrong way. I usually try to be nice to people but sometimes they push me, even when they know they shouldn’t. I tried to have a nice day, but she just poked… and poked, and poked, and poked again, and again… until I lost it.

“Ugh! Haha lol”

“Another day at work and I still don’t have a paycheck to show for it…”

“Ha! Tell me about it bro, I’m still praying anytime I tap my card to get a fucking bagel!”

“Yeah! Last thyme I saw toe-st for 3 pounds and I was lyke: errr no?… Hahaha”

“Yeah lool”


“..But anyways, I was thinking we could maybe get some drinks after work. What you guys thinking?”


“Yeah but I ain’t broke”

I winked.

“O Brotherr…”

“I mean… I don’t mynd…”

“Nah bro, I’ve got uni tomorrow and my lecturer is already on my arse about handing in my dissertation.”

“Oh come on mann…”

“Nahhhh, I can’t.”

“Is it due in tomorrow?”

“Nah, but–“

“THEN why are you worrying? It’s just a few drinks. COME ONN. Pleeeeease, I’m SOO Boredddd, URGH!”

“I don’t know… Maria are you going?..”

“I’ll goe if you goe”


“*sigh*… okay I’ll come…”

“YESSSS!!! Trust me, you won’t regret it ”

I said it with a smile.

“Whatever, can you just go back to your section…”

Turner rolled his eyes.

“Why? it’s a nice day. The sun’s out.”

“So you can do your job?…”

“There’s nobody here!”

“So go do some pot wash then..”

“I’ll get it done! You know I can do it, just let me be..”

“What? No. I want to go home on time, ____”


“You know what I mean…”

He turned to Maria, eyes enlarging,

Grin expanding.

“Oh for fuck sake, don’t give me this bullshit again — I GET MY JOB DONE!”

“Okay whatever man, just go clean.”

“Nah fam I’m tryna chill.”

“Bro you know if Marsda finds you like this, she’ll kill you. I’m only trying to keep you from being fired…”

“Yeh ____ eet’s not good to bee hear, becoz if Marsda finds you hēre she will get you in traball”

“Urgh, whatever. There’s customers walking towards us anyways”

“____, stop talking.”

“I was just talk–“

“Stop talking, cook faster.”

Marsda was here.



Time passes by.

“____! ____!”

“Are you deaf?!”

“I’m waitinnnng!”


“____, the customer is waiting!”












“____, you don’t get to talk to me like that..”

“I can have you reported you know!”

Ok whatever.

“No, stop.”

She comes in and takes over,

I tighten my lips, seething in rage.

She finishes and returns to the customer.

“Sorry about that, he’s just slow.”

I clench my fists and fill with acid.

The store quitens.

Manager starts talking with employees.

I clean meanwhile.

Manager goes downstairs.

Brushing past me in a passively-agressive fashion.

I smile.

Store stays quiet.

I talk to friends.

Enjoying myself.

Manager comes back.

Sees me in a good mood.

Starts shouting at me.

Ok whatever.

I walk away.

“____, come here.”

I give her the benefit of a doubt.

She bollocks me.

“You do NOTHING!”

“You don’t know NOTHING!”

I tell her:



She won’t stop.

I tell her: Okay.

She won’t stop.

I breathe in harder.

My eyes roll and my jaw locks in.

My nostrils flare.

She pokes me in my chest.

She’s poking the bear.



I tell her to stop it.

She pokes me again.

I tell her to stop.

She doesn’t stop.

I walk away.

She grabs my arm.

I knock her front teeth out.

Her noise fades, I only hear white noise.

No sound, I can’t see.

I can’t hear her screaming.

Perpetrator statement – During incident (Describing CCTV footage(inaudible) between 16:37:52 and 16:54:56:

A mindless rage swept ash into my eyes, flashing white light – reflected from the chrome kitchen tabletops, only to undress my vision to the rushing blood beneath my eyelids, then black. My mind evaporated and all that was left was the steam venting out of my nostrils. I pounced at the bitch, reaching for her neck – grabbing at it like a champagne bottle, only to land sitting on her pillow-of-a stomach, soft like a marshmellow, perfect to rest on as I tightened my grip on her neck, twisting the dry skin of my palms against her thyroid like a salt-shaker. Grinding, grazing and warping the thin skin above her airway. I switched to quick striking then clawing at the flesh on her eyelids, screetching and scratching, fueled by vengence and a fire of pure fucking hatred. I didn’t stop, I didn’t want to – I was enjoying it, laughing. My nails collected the freckles of her face only to dip them back into her bloody scars again and again and again. It was like mulling wine. Excavating, each scrape scratched off a layer of her forehead and the dead skin between. Then SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! I pummelled her head in with my fist like a dirty wrench, turning her head into potato mash with a vermillion gravy dressing on the side. I heard nothing but radio noise. I could feel my chuckles gear up laughter from the pit of my diaphragm. Like daggers, I set my teeth into her neck popping her veins like a balloon. It was all too good for me. I could feel her kicking and screaming but to no avail. I wanted to kill her and once I started, I would end it. Two minutes could only be so long. I guess they were right: Time goes fast when you’re having fun. The more she kicked and pushed, the closer she was to losing it. With blood in my teeth and spread across my face, I would continue by taking my two thumbs and pushing them into her windpipes. It was like playdoh but crunchier. She screamed trying to claw me off but I would only elbow her to keep her down, by then everytime she’d gasp for air her own blood would drip into her open mouth from my face, salted with my sweat as I hanged over her. She was reaching climax. I had won and she would only start fade but I would keep going, eating like an animal. Her blood was horrible, marroon, chunky; fat and tar. It had some grit to it between my teeth. By then I got what I wanted so I whipped my head back, pulling her by the strings of her hair, hold then BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, B… like cracking an egg. Bashing her cerebellum, I would not rest until I had broken to her gooey core. So I WHACKED AND WHACKED AND WHACKED her head against the cheap concrete floor until I saw red yolk run across the surface. She was just gurgling, choking on her own blood. The shock had caused her to seizure. She clinched onto my shirt with all she had left for one last grasp before slowly releasing, thus shivering uncrontronably. But I kept going and then 1, 2 , CUR- RACK!. It was over.

So much violence, so much bloodshed, over. What a show. It was done. The rage that consumed me had taken her, now all that was left was to wait for the vultures. Its so funny how rage warms you, more than love, heating you from cold nothing and absolutely filling you. A momentary lapse of reason, momentary. The heat from my head had drifted and as my heart rate slowed down I started to feel the cold of my finger tips. I looked down. Suddenly my eyes widened, muscles tightened and stomach plunged dowwwwwwwwwn. I leaped back in a state of fear, shock and disbelief. Backed into the mini fridge I cowered, “no… no.. no… no.. no.. nonononono…” and started crying, rocking backwards and forwards holding onto my knees with my head tucked in between. I didn’t even want to look. I could sense the ambience of the room and the fear that gripped my coworkers and the customers. My heart had never beated so fast. I knew what I had done. I didn’t want to believe it. I knew what it meant. I knew there was no escape – only witnesses. I looked down at my toes and saw the blood flowing under the soles of my shoes. I knew what I had done to the rest of my life. I cried even harder, crying like a child with veins popping out of my neck, sobbing. I watched the tears splash on the floor, streaming from my eyes down to my lips, mixing with the mucus and saliva that hanged there aswell. I looked up to see wide open eyes and people turned blue. I could only mutter “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry” before I tucked my head back in. Then 5 seconds later I heard heavy boots against the shop floor — running in my direction saying, “GET DOWN! GET YOUR HANDS UP! GET DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”. It was done and I was over. The vultures were here for me, not her. After everything was done and the smoke had cleared I knew, I was done.


CrOp TOps aRe FoR GiRls(!)

Short story written by @lavessa and edited by me. Check it out 🦅


3. From dusk till dawn

Lilac strips cling onto the pale base of the blue morning sky. It looks as if God only brushed one coat of white paint over of the horizon. Centered in the middle, I feel the divinity, I see the beauty. The sun spits lushious rays of pantone sunshine. With this, windows turn gold, Antennas turn royal sceptres and streaks of sky sing in pastel colours. The grain of the waking sun’s radiance continues to burn amidst the fog of yesterday’s darkness – Highlighting the rose underbelly of the clouds above. Rich and vivid is the sight. As I reflect, I absorb the light of a fireball, and wonder: “Is there any life out there for me?”. The moon watches on deep within the blue above, illuminating faintly around itself. I turn. I wish I was braver. I script my thoughts out in my head, playing and acting out scenarios of me in love, in good company and in the eyes of celebrities I wish to be like. I ponder but as my thoughts fleet, my grip on this reality slips. I seem to be distracted from distracting myself so I let go, only to end up back where I started – on the balcony, leaning on the edge of the rail and at this point…

The edge of the world.

The birds won’t shut the fuck up. But the trees are alive. Stretching and waking to the tasteful calm of the soft morning glow and the crisp morning breeze. The air is cold but gentle – It’s not going anywhere. My mind drifts in it’s place. Looking at the navy hills in the distance, I ask: “What’s wrong with me?”, ” Is it me?”. It’s as if my emotions have a hold on me instead of me having a hold on them. I wish it would’ve been my mother holding me like this.


Melancholy, I lean back and look on, wheezing – in, out, in, HOLD; and smell cold, and.. *sniff* …somewhat dry… blowing in the air. The backdrop of the pearlescent sky torches the valley of council estates to my right with a certain lustre, almost as if a chrome-en-rose, as I continue to watch – awed, amoureuse. As I hold my gaze, I hear singing and footsteps… I turn. The birds drift through the peach skies in tandem while down below the squirrels roam the peach streets – in tandem. The scene is static but the street lamps twinkle within the layers of the suburban landscape. This moment is brief, but enough to say

‘good morning’.

Everything seems to fade one way or another. Day to night, night to day, friend to friend, lover to lover. Surely one of them was the one… Right? RIGHT? The sky dresses itself in an even pinker pink, intensifying in vibrancy and increasing in exposure as the sun shifts her whisper of gold up to a shout of egg-yolk orange – shining her now-saturated rays directly onto my cum-soaked bedsheets, bouncing of my blue walls and the frank ocean poster that decorates it. Those same walls saw me cry looking at my phone screen. Stomach churning and working from an adrenaline shot – all for the price of “We need to talk.”.

[No one liked that]

My green tea just mildly burns my tongue as I take a small sip from my mug with my head bowed – still looking at the sun rising between London’s legs. I wonder – to no surprise: “What the fuck is going on?”. I laugh with the intent to cry and the silence hears me. I hold my head, losing my self-control. Did I ever even have it in the first place? FUCK!


I cry.

The tears stream down my face, dripping from the underside of my jaw only to drip onto my stained, somewhat-white t-shirt – imprinting onto my chest, turning my top into the saddest graphic tee I think I’ve ever seen. How do I celebrate my creation? Well, I only grovel down to the ground. Turning away from the sun and hiding behind the suicide-guard, I scratch my knees along the unfinished concrete that is the floor of my balcony. I end up sat down – limp, weak-willed and submissive to the horrors of my past that continue to haunt and torture me. Nice. To no surprise, I’ve given up. My soul is exhausted and defenseless. My emotions, as always, have won this battle. I don’t even want to see what the war looks like… No prospects, no school, no job, no money but a chest infection, an iphone I use as an alarm, a gram of weed and a mum who loves me way too much to tell me what she really thinks. I have 800 followers on Instagram yet I follow 692 of them – So much for being a leader instead of a follower… How the fuck did I get here? I was a kid… A kid. My mental health started playing games and now I’m a grown up? Am I the only one who’s seeing a flaw to the logic? It’s so funny… I would laugh if it wasn’t so fucked up. I’m not even crying anymore at this point… I stare at the wall, deadpan, wanting to drive my face into the plaster but too afraid of the pain to actually do it. Now one sits alone without talking but saying enough with one’s silence. One has hit one’s creshendo once again… But how? Why? Why do we fall? Why do we die every night of our lives only to rebirth the moment our brains ‘feel like it’? Not even healing the pain within our hearts, or fixing the mess in our minds but forgetting about it until it comes to hit us again, and again, and again until it kills us or we kill ourselves. My childhood trauma laughs at my fate. I haven’t smoked weed in 2 weeks. Might be the reason why I feel like shit. FUCK. Worst part is, I don’t feel as sad anymore and I hate it. I think I like being depressed. I think I I D E N T I F Y with it.. Jeez… How fucked does one have to be to feel this way?… My therapist says it’s normal and has a fancy word for it. I’d remember it but I never listen anyway – hence why I’m here: on the floor, reciting past regrets and living in the shadow of my 5 year old self. My life seems to have taken of on an offroad direction but my life hasn’t even started yet to do so for fuck sake.


The lord works in mysterious ways..

I seem to have reached such a point of indifference that there’s no point of me sitting down and feeling sorry for myself. But then again, what’s the point of living anyway?…

I get over myself and stand up. The sun has been here this whole time and didn’t even say anything… If it didn’t give me light, food and oxygen I’d say it was as bad at understanding me as my friends… I dust my knees and shake my bathrobe trying to find myself but I’m still here; All I’ve lost is 50% of my phone battery. Don’t ask how. I never know to even answer myself… Being relatively clean and basking in the last moments of the morning’s dying rust, I swipe right the green and oozing mucus drying and flaking just above my dry and flaking top lip. The Sun sees this a funny moment to hit my face with sunlight and essential vitamins. I giggle a little bit, the bastard haha. My cigarette is almost out but I smoke anyway; Between tokes I smile and dance a little bit, barely keeping my balance on my sliders as I introvertly kung-fu kick the air, somehow almost splitting my white boxers. 99% cotton? More like 99% ass.


Oh shit! My cigarette has been burning this whole time… I toke again. With smoke in my eyes, I squint like a man who’s seen it all as I watch the world I know change before my very eyes. The world has not yet heard me wail; neither have my mum or the neighbours next door. The cycle continues. Will I eventually give up? Will I work towards my dreams? Will I find love? Of course not. Stay tuned for the next episode tho. It’s gonna be a whammy. Probably won’t even cry. Just straight down to Rock Bottom. As I finish wailing and smoking, the clouds de-pink-ify before me. Sunrise overdrive is now over. The cotton candy clouds are now retarded marshmellows. The dead autumn leaves are now visible. The squirrels climb the trees to see the world as it is. I already have. The Hybrids and Corsas below seem to be moving as if they were possessed. The cranes in the sky stand firm, red at the tips, ready for the day. The greys, blues and browns of the city take shape and take their place within the land’s cityscape. The window lights turn on. Oh no. I see trains, I see lights, I hear iPhone alarms.

The people are awaking.

The solitude I thought I was enjoying has been taken away from me by the cold dead hands of time. Instead of giving me what I want, it’s given me what I need: Living people. I’m not a fan but medicine is medicine… I’ve learnt now, even as a man who’s seen it all: I can’t change, but the day of the calendar can. Today is here. The party is over. The birds sing their final song on the BT telephone lines. They dance once more. The butterflies flutter and twirl through the emerging pollen like fighter jets. Ponds ripple as the wind dies down to only a kiss, reaching outwards towards the land that hugs it. My city shows me her true colours as I did from behind the concrete slab of my balcony. I have the graphic tee to prove it. The squirrels recluse as the houseflies come out to play.


Good morning.

Nothing happened.


2. Liberi

Free-spirited and joyous, a little girl plays on a hill. She’s only 5 yet her driver’s license says she’s 24. For every spin she only gets dizzier and dizzier – Spinning into a revolving high. She falls over only to be greeted by strange… micro-creatures. Her mini-computer calls them “ants”…
She says hello but they’re in the state of working. “Okay, another time then”
She continues to dance in the warmth of the sun with every bare step landing on a pillow of satisfaction and toes tickled by grass, heart tickled by a lost sense of youth. A regeneration of which the inner-child is now the child. She flows displaying dances steps in staccato as the strings slowly sway in adagio with her hips: Poetry in motion. No sense of society’s rules, no care for anything or anyone around her. What makes a girl smile so honestly? What makes her swerve and scream with such passion; such light-heartedness?
The strings now roar with her. She is in her own crescendo as the fields of Austria look on. Her laughs can be heard from her chest to the farmers of mainland japan. She’s only a girl. No father. No mother. Just a girl with a dog in the car. The aforementioned dog jumps out to annoy(love) with his companion. She runs and runs, laughing and hollering. They circle each other to only tumble down together. What a life! Sun, air, grass and dog.
What a strange little girl.
I’d never seen someone scream out a symphony like this. The vibrations shattered through glass windows of local stores, shaking tampons off shelves and ripping bras off shelves. It was a sign that she was free. Free of being a “woman”. To be free was to be a child, a girl. Free to be whoever she wanted to be. Not empowered by lipstick but by imagination and nonchalance. What a marvelous child she was.


1. Rosalinda

She was really nice to me. What a gentle soul. Anyway, my tongue was buried deep inside her cunt. She was wet. Open. I had been on top of her kissing her neck; Gentle soft pecks, moist with a hint of tongue. I could taste her sweat: salt, water and expensive perfume. I could smell that she was sexually frustrated so we kissed. Passionately. We essentially ate each others souls. The pressure of our soft lips created a humid vacuum of carbon dioxide. We were breathing out into each other, moaning, salivating and intertwining with our tongues. She bit on my lip so I slapped her in the face. We pulled into each other with even more passion. She grabbed my ass cheeks to press my cock print even closer through our jeans. Somehow the awkward friction turned us both on even more. I felt like I was 14 again. Dry humping tends to do that. I bit on her ear lobe and whispered french in her ear. Her neck rose and her head weighed back. It was already too much for her. She moaned in Spanish. It turned me on EVEN more. I was getting hot at this point. I took off my tight t-shirt. Slowly. Lifting my arms to unveil the chocolate skin on top of the intricate highways of my muscles and tissues overlapping as I elasticated, shining in the rose-amber light of her Ikea desk lamp. She loved it. She licked me up from the above the elastic of my boxers to the bottom of my chest. It was an intricate presentation. It resembled the image of two swans discovering what love is. It felt like an artful action movie: Elegant with a primal “je ne sais quoi”. We looked into each other’s eyes. Hers open, feminine. Mine, not as open, unisex. She reached for the bed spread… She grabbed the ends of her black crop top… She breathed in and sucked her stomach in, un-blossoming to allow her two breasts to bounce out and lay looking into my eyes. She gracefully let go of her posture like the divine woman she is and was sunken deep into her pink polka dot quilt and pillows. I dived in after her, looking for her in the depths of her bed. I managed to find her breasts. My mouth found them too. Licking JUST… barely on the tip, THEN slobbering all over them. God, I’m a dog… I could hear electric guitars screaming and the bass of the Bluetooth speaker rattling the bed legs. Her hand was cradling my head, preciously stroking, holding my thoughts and feelings. Holding me like I’ve never felt held. I could hear her heart and for once I could hear mine. It seemed to enjoy the moment. Pouring out a sense of weakness after it all being contained by my pride. Sucking and searching for something beneath I licked around the stars of the show and they grew in jealousy. Her nipples awoke. Like Lazarus they raised. My lady for the night was pleased. She clutched my hair tighter the more I played with her hands pulling me closer to her chest. To her ribs. To her heart. Only to eventually get weak of exhaustion. Oh Rosalinda, the pleasure was straining her mind. Making her weak. I came up to kiss her but she kissed me instead. She was very passionate about it. She was falling in love with me, I might’ve been too. damn… I caught her by her neck, plunging her head back into a sink of pillows and cuddly toys, baptising her. I stared intensely into the black abyss of her eyes. It was clear as night but I couldn’t tell if she wanted me, my cock or just a fuck.
While only “slightly” choking her (mercifully of course) I could see that she wanted all three. Dear God.. The restraint only made her want it more. A fire burning, cold but oh so hot. Fuck, this girl is insane. I had let go of her neck so she could survive.
Her skin: Wet.
Her lips: Wet.
Her hair: Wet.
Her pussy: I could see a wet patch.
I grabbed her hand then kissed it in the name of all that is sweet, dark romance. She wasn’t used to being treated well. I treated her better with each kiss as I slowly went up her arm staring into her eyes. I bit into her shoulder and she felt the pleasure in the pain. Of course she would. I’m no ordinary man and that wasn’t going to change tonight. I’d probably be masturbating in my room if it weren’t for her so I was going to show my gratitude…but first I was gonna fuck her. I started with her forehead, slowly kissing her physical landmarks: Nose, lips, chin, etc., as I descended upon my target.Wet, shivering, nervous, excited, it was waiting for me and I was coming.

I was down to her breasts, then her stomach, her belly button.
Everything was so soft. Inching closer, I was creeping down between her legs with my lips – still looking at her. She wasn’t looking at me; Her eyes were closed. She didn’t want to see what was about to happen. She wanted to feel it. Thousands of hormones were being released, hundreds of muscles tightening and relaxing. Her legs opened while her anus closed. It was a sign: I had reached my destination. The view was interesting. Pubes – Shaven 3 days ago, hair just breaking out. Surrounding area – Dark, specifically #76524A. Vagina – Dripping. I saw all I needed to make my move. I reached for the hood. Her clit was swollen to the size of my heart. I licked it and she moaned. I licked it and she moaned again. I noticed a pattern.

I teased her pussy, making it jealous by kissing the thighs in front of it. I saw it’s mouth open to scream but all I heard was the sweet symphony of mac and cheese. My dick was very hard. It had been hard for the last 14 minutes. Her eyes suddenly opened like New year fireworks. My Frankenstein’s bride had awakened. Her clit tingled like a Nokia brick phone vibrating on a concrete floor. I leaped forward and gave them both what they wanted sucking on the bastard clit. Tickling it with my tongue as I sucked, I rolled my R’s. She never taught me Spanish. She raised up and grabbed my head by its crown tucking it into her pussy folds. Muffling me, the vibrations of my suffocation electrified her vaginal carpet tunnel. The electricity energised her, making her young …making her loud too. As I was trying to enjoy my dinner she screamed “yeah…yeah…Oh FUCK. yeaAAHH..”
I bit on her clit and she roared into the atmosphere.
It must’ve been good because the sound-waves from her throat distorted the moonlight. She lifted my face to hers and kissed me viciously, violently pulling me back into the bed with her – on top of her. She kept me there in her mouth; the only connection we shared in that moment. Contact of both our skins. A blend of dark and light; yin and yang. Her flesh pressed against mine. My meat pressed against hers. She let go of me with her right hand: The same hand she made food for me with. That was really nice of her. I was really hungry. Anyways, her hand blindly wandered looking for my cock and grabbed ahold of it rubbing it vigorously to get it started. My dear Rosalinda pulled it against to her clit to slide it down and in. I advanced further, fighting the good fight, sliding in high volumes of vaginal lubricant. She turned the light off. I pushed my cock deeper inside. I was in. Estaba en.