Booze (Pt 2)

It’s killing me. This guilt. Every time I go out. I speak to someone and I feel guilty for laughing. I talk about you and I feel guilty for crying. I feel like every one is watching me, secretly whispering, and I feel guilty for being such an arrogant prick. I think everyone is judging me, pitying me and I feel guilty for not having more faith in people.

So I’m just going to stop going out.  As it will finish me off eventually. This guilt.

Booze (Pt 1)

I hope I find the answers I’m looking for at the bottom of this pint glass.

Otherwise putting make up on to leave the house tonight was a waste of time…


It's only when you have nothing
that you realise words are everything

Words make your mind break
Words make your soul ache

Words incite you to roar
Words inspire you to soar

It's only when you have nothing
that you realise words are everything

I have nothing
But my words



Your words help guide my wayward step
and shine light in to my darkened heart

Your smile breaks my fall to the kitchen floor
and stems the tears in my haunted eyes

Your touch quietens the incessant voice in my head
and replenishes my embittered soul

You allow me to believe that love might be possible again

One day

Grief Vampire

Paltry, trite sentiment
Faux hurt and pain
Superficial, artificial compassion
Feigned sadness and tears

You've got no fucking idea how this really feels
Grief Vampire
Just piss off back to your crypt
And leave me in peace

Country Roads

I should stop driving late at night.

Especially on country roads.

It’s becoming far too tempting not to press the foot brake.

And I’m not afraid of the darkness…



Blythswood Square

She remembers she is hungry. She shoves a hand inside the leg of her boot.


She finds herself in Blythswood Square. The shadowy figure approaches her, but she is not afraid. It’s the fourth one tonight.

‘Twenty quid with’ she replies, ‘Twenty five without’.

She leads him down the darkened alley. Still, she is not afraid. He won’t last. They never do.

She reaches for the tissues from her pocket and wipes between her legs. She drops them to the ground as she slides the twenty pound note down into her boot. She puts the fiver inside her bra.

She strides down to Queen Street Station and pays the fifty pence to use the loo. It feels good to wash the stains from her body.

She ambles back up towards Sauchiehall Street to her favourite take away. She eats two slices of pizza with extra jalapenos, hoping to burn the taste of the men from her throat.

She stands outside, smokes a cigarette, and wonders what to do. She trudges back towards Blythswood Square.

Just two more, she thinks. Two more and I can go home.

My Heart

My heart is smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

I don’t have the glue to put it back together.

And I lost the instruction manual years ago.

Who Goes First?

It’s better that I’m living without you

Rather than you living without me

You’d never cope with this pain

It has wrecked me

But it would have destroyed you

And I would have hated that

Mild Peril

I trace those old scars with my finger
I remember the fleeting pain
And the lasting relief

I never told anyone

I hope I'm not about to re-open old wounds


Passing Notes in Class 6GA

I think we should stop seeing each other.

I can’t stop thinking that something is going to go wrong and we are going to get found out. I feel so much guilt about what we’ve been doing – it’s not fair on her, you or me. It’s not right that we have to keep our relationship a secret. It means I cannot let you get close to me and you deserve more than that. You need someone who can show off what a brilliant guy you are. Not someone who has to hide you away. Like me.

I want you to know that the times we have shared have been really special to me. I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve spent with you and that’s what makes this so much harder. But it has to be done. Although it kills me to say it: we cannot carry on. I love you with all my heart but putting an end to this now will be the best thing for us both in the long run.

I’ll never forget our time together. I’ll treasure the memories of our clandestine meetings forever.

Please don’t forget me. I know I’ll never forget you.

I’m sorry.


Falling asleep is hard 
Waking up is harder

Getting showered is hard
Putting on clothes is harder

Making breakfast is hard
Eating it is harder

Leaving the house is hard
Going home is harder

Crossing the road is hard
Looking both ways is harder

Listening to people is hard
Talking to people is harder

Smiling in general is hard
Laughing at jokes is harder

Living with you was hard
Living without you is harder


You should be here with us.
Reciting these stories, 
reminding us of the facts. 
Pointing out the details,
bringing these memories to life.

We didn't realise
we should have been trying
harder to remember,
as one day you wouldn't be here
to connect the dots.


It’s like you’ve been round at your pals house for the evening, and you’re going to call me in a minute to tell me you’re on the bus home…

But you never call…

The Only One

You said I was the only one who made you laugh.
You said I was the only one who made you cry. 
You said I was the only one that made you feel safe.
You said I was the only one you could trust.
You said I was the only one who made you feel special.
You said I was the only one that mattered.
You said I was the only one who taught you patience.
You said I was the only one who taught you to be happy.
You said I was the only one who taught you to love.

Then you left.

And I was the only one who cried.


Sleepless in Riddrie

It's when I think about you the most.
In the wee small hours,
When I can't sleep.
Because of you.

It's your fault.
I say it often and it's true.
You have no right to make me feel the way you do.
Constant simultaneous conflicting emotions.

I know it's just sex between us.
But I feel more.
I know it's not the same for you.
You love another, after all.

I feel more of a connection.
Not just physically but mentally too.
I know when you are going to call or send a message.
It's no surprise: I sense it.

But I am scared.
I don't know the rules to your game.
I don't have the capacity to learn.
Perhaps I never will.

It's okay for you.
You have been here before.
But I know you will get sick of me, eventually.
And I won't know what else to do.


Random #11

Sticks and stones definitely break bones
And words have always fucking hurt

Stop feeding your kids this bullshit

It only makes things worse

‘Blue Sign’

I was doing really well today you know.

I got out of bed at a reasonable time.
I sang to myself in the shower.
I put on different clothes.
I remembered to fed the cat.

I cleaned the bathroom.
I threw the stale food away from the fridge.
I washed the bed sheets.
I took the rubbish out.

I went for a swim.
I started listening to a new podcast.
I went shopping in the afternoon.
I even flirted with the man who served me.

And then I drove past the blue sign.
And the sky fell in.
And I remembered everything.
And my heart shattered all over again.



I am falling.

Tumbling through the air,

Spinning over and over,

Hurtling towards the ground.

Some fucker has stolen my parachute.

Don’t think I’m surviving this one, eh?

I Can / I Cannot

I can forever buy token things,

But I cannot answer my phone if it rings.

I can try to plug the cavernous gap,

But I cannot avoid that same old trap.

I can seek out frames for your daft wee photos,

But I cannot keep all of your old clothes.

I can find different ways to while away the hours,

But I cannot keep watering those dead flowers.

I can pray today will be warm and sunny,

But I cannot walk around and pretend to be funny.

I can look for answers in the cold grey sky,

But I cannot continue to painfully cry.

I can avoid scenes of actual violence,

But I cannot ensure my wilful silence.

I can try with all I have to get myself through,

But I cannot ever stop myself from loving you.


I wish I’d never met you.

Life would be easier then.

If I’d never met you I’d never have to forget you.

And I would be happier then.

Random #9

What I wouldn’t give to be creative
and be able to express it.

What I wouldn’t give
isn’t worth knowing about.

Sex & Drugs & Dance Music

‘Undo your trousers and get your cock out now’ she cried.

I knew she would be unimpressed with what she saw. It wasn’t the fact I was fucked from the seven hours of non-stop dancing, or that I felt physically ill from the dodgy burger I’d eaten at Stav’s van outside the club. I knew full well that my inability to get a hard on was due to the six wraps of amphetamine that I had hoovered up my nose throughout the night.

‘Come on, she pleaded. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make me come all night long’. She had always been a pretty straight forward kind of girl. Or at least she had been since I’d known her. I’d met her in the club about four hours earlier. She was coming out of the toilets as I was heading in to fill up my water bottle. She said she liked my blue mascara and matching hair. I said I liked her devil horns and big tits. But those 36D’s were doing nothing for me now.

I felt the crotch of my faux snakeskin trousers. Nothing. Her eyes eagerly followed the direction of my hand. She wouldn’t be pleased. My usually ample sized dick was letting me down. I tried to change the subject.

‘I’ll put some tunes on’ I croaked as I fumbled about on the floor. I found a CD – Carl Cox Non Stop. For fucks sake. Must everything remind me of my dick? I angrily pushed the disk into the stereo.

‘I fancy you’ she purred. How the fuck was I going to pull this one off? Here was a smouldering sex kitten writhing around on my bed, gagging for it, and my bollocks had shrivelled to the size of a grape. I suppose it’s not their fault, I mused. Give me a choice between a shag and six wraps of pure base and I’ll go for the powder every time. It’s only when you have Uma Thurman on your bed that you wish you could say no.

Maybe I could try and satisfy her in another way, I wondered. That way if my sleeping policeman ever decides to wake up then it’ll be fine: I can shag her all night long. If he decides to sleep in, however, then maybe she’ll be content with other parts of my anatomy instead and fall asleep.

‘Well, if you won’t come to me then I’ll just have to come to you’ she teased, playfully. She stood up from the bed and moved over towards me, undoing the strings of her corset as she walked. Her eyes locked on mine. I would hate to be a disappointment to her but, as yet, there was no stirring in my nether regions. Her leather bodice fell to the floor, shortly followed by her crushed velvet hot pants. Fuck me, she was beautiful. She had a body to die for with a sexual appetite to match. Every man’s wet dream. I so wished I’d met her when I wasn’t off my face.

‘Interested?’ she seductively inquired. How ironic I thought. As I studied her ample chest, the old snakeskins felt a little tighter at the zip. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe my sleeping policeman’s alarm clock had finally gone off. I sent down another tentative hand to the area in question. Thank fuck. My bollocks had returned to their normal size and my dick was getting ready to greet Uma with a smile.

‘I’m interested if you are’ I beamed. And she was. My snakeskins and ‘FUCKED’ t-shirt were soon on the floor. They and the devil horns made a cracking looking pair.

‘I’ll be off then. Thanks for a great night!’

It wasn’t actually the sound of her voice that woke me up that afternoon, but the sound of the heels on her knee length boots clicking along the hallway floor. Through the haze of a banging headache and a raging thirst I watched them disappear as the front door slammed shut.

Although I felt like utter shit I smiled proudly to myself. She thought last night was ‘great’. For once, it seemed, I had managed to fight the side effects of the chemicals I had consumed and have a decent shag after a good nights whizzing. I settled back into bed and prepared for the inevitable come down that was already winging its way to me in the post.

My mobile began to vibrate on the bedside table. The noise felt like someone drilling holes into my head. I answered it, just to stop it hurting.


‘Fuck me, you are alive then!’ came an excited voice. ‘Man, I thought you’d be out of it considering how well you got on with our friend Billy last night. Fucking good night though, eh? Bouncing club that. But what about that bird with the devil horns and the big tits that you were talking to outside the toilets? Must have hurt when she called you a sexist prick and slapped your face before walking off with her pals…’

It was then I realised. It’s like the geezer from Manchester growls in that song:

‘All your dreams are made, when you’re chained to the mirror and the razor blade…’