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Over 90 days ago
United Kingdom



An old couple meet at a coffee shop. “Harry! How are you doing?!” “Hilda! I’m doing well.” They hug and Harry pulls Hilda’s seat out for her, removing his hat and putting it on the table. “Can I get you something?” Hilda asks. “Just my usual two cents,” H...


I kinda like the flow of this. Maybe I'll do audio.

Hello? Hi? Ehhhugh, hum?Y'all? D'ye exist?I exist?Anyone? Anyone at all? But, no. Nobody did exist.But somebody must have.Existed, that is.Otherwise this wouldn't  exist. But what is existence without purpose? Is that just, sorta, being? Like a thing. Y'k...


I'm back with more silliness!

Snackin' like it's going outta fashion, I've got a smile, it's flashing.  I'm happy as fuck, hear me play with my rubber duck!    I got hit by a truck!    Still snackin', just through a tube,  at this rate, I'll lose the moobs.  When I make a recovery, I'...

How Many Potatoes?

Just a little absurd story.

Four hundred and twenty potatoes. A client asked me to take a picture of that on my Exacta 66 camera. I contemplated as I sipped my dirty martini. I do get a lot of absurd requests, but this takes the cake. Speaking of cake, let’s get baked. I forgot what...


Written one painful day, outside work.

Pain, pain, go away,Fuck me up never a day. An hour or more is all I ask,Is that really such a task? I wear a mask of brave facedness, But inside, my lies are bare faced. Nobody sees because I hide,For what else do I do, lest I slide? So, here I go, it's...

There's a house at the top of the hill. Haunted, of course.It doesn't want to kill, or even chill. Benevolent, of course. It used to be a mill. Abandoned, of course. They made twill. Aeons ago, of course. Now the house sits lonely and old. Awaiting its ne...

Another Unedited Musing

It's unedited. Enjoy it, or whatever.

I’m not entirely sure I like you.Everything here is too bright and too dark. It’s a fucking paradox and it doesn’t make any sense.It doesn’t even make paradoxical sense.Like, why am I sitting here typing this? My hands are betraying me.The wind is harsh,...

Painful Poetry

Self-loathing is fun!

The ideas are here,but so’s the pain,it’s making me feel rather wan.It’s not a perfect rhyme,but give me time.Why do poems have to rhyme?A poem doesn’t have to rhyme,just as long as it makes the readerspend time.Time is great, but waste it not. Rather, ma...