Ko Chang (vivez sans temps mort)

Almost this time last year

I was on a roof terrace in Bangkok

drinking beer and taking benzos

and thinking about killing myself

I was planning to go to Ko Chang

but I stayed up all night panicking

and I caught a direct BA flight home instead

Back to the rain and the drudgery

Because I was mad and thought I was in love

Back to ‘the fear’ and the nothingness


even if it makes you mad

or nearly fucking kills you

when yr in doubt

go to Ko Chang



Dandelion blown, the pieces settle slowly and softly

I sift through the rubble and pick them up one by one

Rebuild the plant w/ Pritt Stick and good intentions

Leaving out the weak bits, aiming for a perfect fiction

then a pretty girl walked up to me and said

what kind of crazy bastard reconstructs a dandelion?

Let them rot or let them grow!”

I lit a cigarette and got on with the rest of my life


we come in clusters

sharing taxis driven by men who sailed oceans to escape the squallor

but we love the whiff of death and seek an absence of hygiene

because we are sterile and the chemicals on our lettuces make us soft and pale

we are nothing more than subcultural revivalists

replacing self-awareness w/ enthusiasm and narcotics

climbing through the lights

skeletons in the forest

idealistic signage

lost in so many ways

I asked a man for directions

and he stammered in reply

he looked terrified

I think he was Algerian

3 AM

orgasms under canvas

then, days later…

job money

sleep lack

5 AM


while next door’s cat takes a shit in our seed trays

There is something that I am looking for

There is something that I am looking for

And it is Tao, Zen, God and Dada

It is the revolution of everyday life

It is nothing nothing nothing nothing

It is walking out of a London pub in the daytime and lighting a cigarette

It is the opening notes of Blue Train on a hungover Sunday morning

It is doing yr housemate’s washing up, savouring the process and expecting no thanks

It is drizzle on yr neck as the sun rises over Brighton beach

It is Surya Namaskara executed clumsily

It is dancing to Bowie with yr fists in the air

It is an unnoticed moment on the football terrace

It is the open E string on a bass guitar

More than anything else it is knowing that you could fuckfuckfuck but not needing to

Because sometimes falling asleep holding hands with yr best friend is all you actually need

There is something that I am looking for

And Cage would say you can find it by chance

(perhaps that helps for some people)

It helped a little for me

You can find a reflection of it on MDMA

Which I certainly recommend

Providing you don’t get sucked in

Providing you see the reflection for what it is

There is something that I am looking for

And some people drive themselves to death looking for it

Some people drive themselves to insanity looking for it

Some people wade through guts and terror looking for it

I looked so hard I had paranoid delusions and mad hallucinations

I looked so hard I didn’t sleep or eat for five days

I wiped my brain like a dandelion blown

I smashed reality out of the park

And then I stopped looking

If you look you’ll only ever find the reflection

I stopped looking, really I did

And then I promise I found it

You can find it too


In the city they cleave to the shard

but you find them everywhere

unchanging in success and collapse

closetted racist simpletons

whinnying and booming

rich, confident

Poets? Pricks!

angular jaws and broad shoulders

Ill fitting designer suits, reluctant tips

They’ve never been addicted and quit

They’ve never worked Tesco nights on seven quid

They’ve never been addicted and remained so

They’ve never loved twice

They’ve never been unloved or de-loved

only beloved in greyness by themselves

they’ve never been challenged

and so they have no doubt

Everything seems easy

they find it tough in secret ways

but they hide from the toughness

and it always SEEMS easy

they talk talk talk

and nothing gets said

they spend spend spend

and nothing is gained

they smoke smoke smoke

the nicotine leaves

they gobble and shit



age in denial

and they all just die

unaware of how they really feel

spaced out of existence

and its end



Most of this has been published in fragments on my tumblr, the fuckin thing was intended to be read as a collection, so here it is in the way it was intended. Enjoy!

stumbling towards the flames

fragments of love, boredom and decay from everyday life

Stumbling Towards the Flames is a collection of short pieces primarily concerned with attempts to reclaim control over the trivial humiliations of everyday life.

In contrasting the most mundane aspects of post-Fordist existence with surreal dream-like rebellions the work suggests the possibility that (through love and honesty) we can build heaven out of the wreckage of our apathetic agnosticism.

Click below to get the PDF.