My bones feel rigid like I’m living with rigor mortis, depression’s equivalent of arthritis. There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe; sunshine cannot be packaged and nor can your smile so I guess I’ll just wait in my heaviness. This opaque silence where nothing can relieve the nothingness I feel whenever you leave. © … Continue reading Rigid
Without a doubt, A Journal For Damned Lovers Volume 2 reveals S. K. Nicholas’ growth as an exceptional writer. He gives the reader even more of himself in this second volume and does not shy away from sharing the darkest thoughts, memories and dreams through this inner monologue. Styled as journal entries this volume oscillates … Continue reading Review of A Journal For Damned Lovers Vol 2 – S. K. Nicholas
If I could I would register myself as two people, if there was a register for such things. A register of people who do not always know themselves; the person in the mirror looks the same but uses a different name. They never tell you this name so you would have to register them as … Continue reading Unknown and I
Naming beach huts is an art form; forget the colour you want to paint it, name it with a legacy in mind. A morning walk isn’t a morning walk until at least five people walking their dogs say, Good morning. If the thought You should wear a hat crosses your mind before you leave the … Continue reading Ten Things
Little acts of braveryEvery day this week, thus far, I have opened the curtains in every room. You would be right in thinking this is a metaphor for letting the light in. It is similar to polishing ageing ornaments or dusting away the cobwebs. Whenever Dee arrives, I hide. I close every curtain, put my … Continue reading The Dee Diaries #1
She paid more attention to bird song this week. She heard it at six am and how it had changed by nine. She heard it in the car park after work, she heard it in the trees outside. She heard it at night when she was running a bath. She does not know which … Continue reading She Listened
'Her face was both changed and unchanged. She still had sharp, pixie features. Her lips were childishly full and the corners still turned downwards. Her eyes shone like pebbles washed with waves but did not glisten. The dull pallor of her skin and crow’s feet suggested she was older. As did her height. This was … Continue reading The Dee Diaries
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There’s a cigarette hanging
from her lips, a little swollen,
blue and purple,
hand painted crimson
to remind her, today
was a new beginning.
The ashtray is overflowing,
she leans over it,
knocks the ash into a glass
of whiskey, picks up another
and leans into it.
Music is blaring,
she’s moving
the top half of her body
to the beat, resting the lower,
jelly legs, fuzzy feet.
She locks eyes with the girl
across the room,
she’s talking in someone else’s ear,
she tries to lip read,
sees the exchange, mouths,
“Today was a new beginning,
is it yesterday again?”
She watches the girl’s hand
float its way to her mouth,
sewing a button of before
onto her tongue,
hurts inside to understand
and debates the same.
The thump of the beat
pulsates into her
and she’s glad of it
when the others enter the room.
Someone’s shouting,
but…
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Biscello’s style is new, unique and refreshing. The switch in pace, perspectives and narrative person unravelled a story which has no beginning nor end. It is a snapshot of a moment. The story centres around Pierangela - a troubled soul I could try and compare to characters like Holden Caulfield or Dorian Gray. I won’t, … Continue reading Review of Nocturne Variations, John Biscello
I like listening to the rain and watching the warm street lamp glow melt into the window frame. Sometimes I hear footsteps too, the distant rumble of traffic and the echoes of birds. I can see the chimney of my neighbour’s house and I can see a magpie or pigeon (they visit most frequently) has … Continue reading Chimney Grass
