Category Archives: Writing

‘Every step I take is in you, in my death. My mouth is full of you, I breathe you in and out.’

‘I cut you down to size, make sense of you. I shape you, think I master you. These very words are guilty.’

‘You’re my death and my chance to live. I can’t go back to a time before you, or forward to a time after you. Mirthless laughter. You’re my endless end, my very life.’

‘You disorient me, but what do I know? I speak, I shape and scatter you like clouds in the wind, look around stupidly and wonder what I’ve said.’

‘You take me to where I wasn’t, where I’m not and where I won’t be, joyfully.’

‘I talk to you, turn away, turn back and away again, admit I can’t dispense with you. I ask if you can dispense with me and laughter rises from mouths, mountains, trees and lakes…’

‘It’s in the failure of my words that you reveal yourself – but this is wrong. It’s in the failure to name and the failure to name the failure to name that you reveal yourself – wrong again. I backtrack into my own backtracking and have to laugh; you unsay yourself from inside yourself, from inside me.’

‘You’re water that flows out of itself, away from itself. Where’s your spring, where’s mine? You flow into me, away from me.’

I tell X I could be walking through some gleaming seaside village under a serene sky, I could be dreaming under a lone oak tree, calm and content, instead of letting him get to me. Get off me, I say, you’re like a needy dog, you bore me, I’m violently bored.

‘I fell back in the hole. It got deeper and wider, I could hardly see the light. I looked down and it closed up.’