What i remember, from memory.

Clear lense, squished from car tyre snow,

Grey hat.

Red coat, lumberjack black squares

collar popped.

mid shot(. Angle.) Small face, big eyes

wearing the smirk that births the

smile that shows the,

teeth that look that,

brings me to my knees
but if it is snowing you
wouldn't notice.

Not in this moment, walking forward,

eye contact with a lense. Blue scarf

scaffolding to the left, where untouched

whiteness rests. thick eyebrows, brown eyes:

Wolflike. Eye contact with a smile.

brown eyes, big enough to engulf

turn, you think you know the street

All we really know is she's fashionable, has

a thin frame padded for the cold with cool clothes

walking along a well travelled, worked-on road,

is taking a moment to turn while trudging through snow

and is in love with whoever is taking her photo.

Baby steps.

Two pounds change
spent on chalk farm chicken

with varicose veins

the sky is dark blue

in the type of winter

you wade through

In my hand is a cold can

of mirinda, the poor mans

fanta, but i love orange soda.

The bus comes slightly ahead of me

so i sort of jog and quietly hide my fatigue

It's more of a rumble and my head rattles

on the window. The light blue bus going past

hampstead heath musics played from behind

my seat I'm writing about london clouds

then throw an evening standard away from me

the front cover was about the casualties of haiti.

Can my hand be held.

Out the pocket comes a palm full of hopes, lines carved defining the way he copes.

fancy watch on the wrist means doing better than feeling, the reaching hand gropes

honey to bee is a lovely way to describe her attraction, like something off the telly

his hand reaches out of a pocket that's sweaty. that's the pocket man not the palm

A jealous pocket has no lining it goes on forever. a home for one without a lover

a hand held out is the scariest thing ever a cold silence on the busiest street it is

goodbye prison, goodbye jacket, it's october and it's either gonna be real cold or...

and, sliding into first place in the life of this man comes this girl by a country mile

a connection that's perfect: gentle with a grip, a loving squeeze that brings a smile

science can't define love so don't expect any answers on how their hands fit like a glove.

23.10.08

It's a grey
windy day
And I'm only
Wearing two layers,
A nasty chest cold
Probably on the way
 
Witherspoons
 Interview at four
As if that's anything to live for.
I think I might not...
But there is no reason
for being here.
 
To stay or to go?
To and fro
This decision goes
and while  I try
to get my mind clear
A dead friend
has started whispering
In my ear.
 
A heavy burden
I think
She's had to bear
Sure I want to help
But her
Troubles
And possible
Suicidal
Thoughts I don't
want to hear
Because going back
Half a year
She had a knack for
Absolving all my fear.
 
And where
One half wants to
Hold her
Make sure
She never sheds
A single tear
Another half
wants to Tyson-ise
her fucking ear
to and fro this decision-
Oh no it's ten
To four
Got an interview
for boredom

Winter coat.

The winter coat kept the chill from my skin
I walked through a twilight, street-lit central London
It was London but a quieter, emptier one
And despite wearing such a large coat
Being alone on what’s usually
One of the busiest streets of the world
It started to get a little cold
I had left from the beginning of an after party
A place where the conversations no longer seemed to suit me
I remember it dawning that
This was a re-occurring case
Though this was the earliest I had left such a place
I swigged from a small bottle of scotch
Only for myself I had bought
Hoping to drink the whole thing in a night
Without giving a second thought
To my sobriety or the dip in the road ahead
But while crossing that road
I stumbled and fell
Twisted my ankle
Needles to say, 2008 hadn't started too well
 
After being fed-up of waiting for any cars to drive by
And failing to see any stars in London’s sky
I realized I had been lying in the middle of a road
For too long
So I decided to get up
And walk on
Although it was now done with a limp
 
I was about to venture home
But as I stepped on the bus I was struck with images
Of cold rooms
Empty beds
And microwave dishes.
It’s an indescribable moment
When you’d rather walk alone
Than spend a night in an supposed home.
I didn't know what it meant
Just felt a need to keep my feet to the pavement.
 
Then shown to me was the only soul that night I would see
Of course on my central London journey
I had passed others
But souls were no longer with these people
Sold to the bottles and to the needle
And other things I’ll hopefully never know or comprehend
Selling souls for objects
Then again, on a night like this
I could almost understand
 
She too,
Was alone
And notably without a coat of her own
But her dress was vintage prada
Her hair was up
She sat on a step leading into pret
I was thinking about her back on that glass
And how cold glass can get
Now I’m not one for talking to strangers
But at this moment not talking seemed stranger
“Are you cold?” I asked her
She lifted her head
I saw the street light stare
And get lost in her hair
Her eyes connected with mine
And something instantly
Inside of me
Straightened my spine
It took her about four seconds to reply
But there was no awkwardness
The seconds flew by
 
Keep in mind what you would do
If you saw a scotch smelling, desperate looking, limping
Nineteen year old staring at you
But despite the reaction feared
She could see that she was the same as me
Or maybe it was the scotch poking out
from my pocket
Either way, she nodded and patted the space next to her
I sat and sighed as I lay by her side
“Do you want to wear my jacket?”
I don’t know why I called it a jacket
Or even why I offered it
It was my winter coat
And it was really cold
She declined
The first words she spoke to me
Were “no, it’s fine”
I really liked my winter coat
But much as I liked it on me
I couldn’t help but prefer
To want to see it on her
 
I offered scotch
And she swigged like a pro
She apologized for having nothing to offer
Though she had clearly forgot
She gave me the prêt stair central London hot spot
We laughed and exchanged
Names and trivial tales
Stories that rambled
And availed
To really nothing
But we were both laughing
So I guess it meant something
I was in a moment where
I was no longer in my own moment
But instead it was together
A time where the sky didn’t change
No cars or people passed us
No need to con or want her to be with me forever
Because there was no future and there was no past
It was a moment in time made exclusively for us
 
It was now around four
And I had managed to get the coat on her
Her head rested on my shoulder
We spent the night huddled together
Woken at around six thirty
By a disgruntled prêt employee
Who thought we were hoboes or drug addicts or something
Either way he sure didn’t want anything to do with me
 
I walked her to the Holborn underground train station
The winter coat I had convinced her to keep
To this day I’m happy she has it
Over that decision I have never lost sleep
She gave me her number
But I don’t think I could ever call her
For in that time we were the only Souls outside
On a cold twilight, street lit central London
And we were both so desperate
For someone to lean on
And one night together was all we needed
To face our day to day lives again and not become defeated
 
Maybe when a cold winter comes
And I’m in need of a friend
I’ll look for my winter coat
And we can see each other
Once again.

Lonesome road.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now I'm being strong

I'm leaving

but it wont be long

because i've been walking along

this lonesome road too long

I was just a stranger

before i met her

another weary traveller

in a lonesome bar

drinking alone

too scared to go home

because home was just too far

Such cold nights

hurt the weakest the most

for there where no eyes

in the london sky

so if I didn't make it back

not even the stars

could watch me die

I would feel so hollow

and I'd wonder why, asking

"where did the man inside me go?"

Perhaps i left him in the ring

knocked cold from that killer blow

She used to look at me

like I was the only thing

She needed to see

now if they ever truly connect

all I'll get is boredom and dread

as if what i will say

could ruin what's left

and it's true

if i start talking

I don't know what will come out next

so we're trapped in a stalemate

bound together from fear

of loneliness

But I loved her and I gave her all i had to give

now i've got nothing else within

I'm withered and thin

weathered and old

to think i once stayed in

from the cold

For loving her is like

walking on the sun

you know i think it just

can't be done

from the sorrow i try to run

but I'm tethered to her

on a rope made of history

there is no doubt

she'll be the death of me

I will O.D. on misery.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now the dream does pour

Like the whiskey I'm drinking

the glass feels good

within my haggard paws

to hold me again

I wish you would

to die my friend

I wish I could.

Baby it's cold outside.

I grow off words and feed off speeches
My brain doesn't house creativity
just prose-hungry leaches
Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young
Where am I from where am I from? Bob Dylan Dylan
See this blonde hair
shinning underneath the swiss cottage underground light the light it stares
Pick this out Pick this out Pick this out
You who shouts me who stares she who listen's
See how that blonde hair glistens
the black mascarra doesn't highlight
It exaggerates because her eyes already show enough
They're, bright
Like a cowgirl in the sand
Like a ruby in the dust
Like the woman of my dreams
and the guitar solo inbetween
they speak
I wonder if she'll save me
I wish she'll make me feel alright
because while it's cold outside
If I can keep looking into those eyes
I'll be warm enough tonight.