I have 40 stories published in
one collection on the site.
My stories have been read 50467 times
and 20 of my stories have been cherry picked. 1 of my 35 comments have been voted Great Feedback with a total of 2 votes
This is a lost art, a skill from the past, like riding a bike or playing tic-tac. I am rejoining the club. Standing here, I remember them, the anonymous men:
He was always there. Gobshite. Loudmouth. At first, you were grateful that someone had said even hello. 5.30 in the morning, the depot filling with tired men in hi-vis clothes,
Red wine at John’s was a laugh and it wasn’t. Tongue-curling sour. His mam bought him twenty fags, a full Showaddywaddy drape in scarlet and gave him twenty quid to blow
The sea is cold and salt and, though we are many, we are always alone. You are too beautiful. It is our curse to find you so, to be drawn to your light, to need you. This is not life,
laid one over the other like lovers the lines of the letter the kiss in the ether this is not you and this is not me I write it I write it and practice until it is perfect