You’re cold, like a butcher’s shop window. Don’t ask me why we’re so volatile. The reaction has begun. You catalyse. I go off.

I used to stare longingly into the space between us, but now there is none. I used to open all of my vents and let your breath ripple through me, but now I’m shuttered and latched.

You’re a piece of work. The working piece divided in fragments.  Ticking like a watch… a time-bomb.

I’m the comb. You’re the queen… bees… honey… hornets. Scratch out a turf war. My skin rises and ripples. Rub yourselves together to keep me warm.

I keep myself hollow, like a cave lapped in slick shadow. The lantern burns at your table while you’re gone.

For a day-job I work in film set fabrication, but that's not nearly close to the feeling I get when I'm writing or creating music. I'm currently working on several screenplays, but this site is where I come to dump my quick-fire ramblings and expunge difficult emotions or experiences. I hope you take something from these writings. Each and every one of them comes from the heart.

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