Pages

6 March 2015

Nettles

rubberdocsbw042

It’s the stony cold silence

The morning after

A beating

That fragile feeling

Softly trembling

The queerness in the gut

When the ebbing throb reveals

The broken incestual jaw

Of the sacrificial lamb

In a garden untended

And filled with nettles

It’s a mouthful of blood

And a handful of hair

Nothing to write home about

It’s not as if you care

.

5 March 2015

Fish n Chips

Fish_n_Chips_01

 

Oh Lord, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us some cheap thrills. This one looks game for a laugh; she’s all fur coat and no knickers, not that I hold that against her. I know her slightly - just enough to know I ought to maintain a little distance. She’s comely all the same and the mere idea of her gives me a hard on; the way that casual acquaintance does when you’re on a sexual high and possess little moral fibre. I’ve known a few mongrels in my time, but this one takes the biscuit and she takes it greedy like.

I don’t mean to make it seem that I don’t like her – I do, but I recognise the limitations of this faux romance. Still the pretence of courtship is all part of the ritual – though I doubt that she even remembers my name. We’ll do the deed alfresco – doggy style – with no inhibition or manners. We’ll grab some fish and chips after and converse inanely for the first and last time.

.