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#nightdwellers I really should be at one with sleep, Into dreams that I won't remember. Instead awake with the nocturnals, Moths dancing at my cigarette tip.
A single red spot in the snow I can see down below When I look from my window up here on the 23rd floor.
Sitting in your bedroom Just staring at the clock Waiting for the phone call Telling you it's time to rock Silver dress hangs ready As you pop another pill You know it's pretty early But you get off...
There in the Cul-De-Sac I lay. Broken..... How did I get here. I'll tell you how: A sleepless nights worth of words was all I had. Swirling like a torrent in my mind - wanting to escape.
The sound of a train rushing by snapped me out my trance, and I realised that I was shaking.
Stumble over fallen sheets, pounding in my head. Glimpse across the room, this is'nt my bed. Tried to escape for twenty four hours. Unpacked case, new place and hotel showers.
I lay here in thought. the sky colours changing. or is it just that. my eyes are fading. the grey buildings. creeping taller. I lie here feeling. even smaller. The leaves fall slowly.
Birds in the sky, they've all gone to bed. Drops have faded into puddles and the leaves are dead. No-one's alive at this time of night. I'm all alone and basking in the moonlight.
In a busy bar, Off a busy street, In a busy city, A man sits alone. He watches the people talk, Watches them laugh, sing and dance. The silent observer. He is happy in the company of strangers.
The face of the tube Is a stranger Impervious to the last lips I kissed To the mother I love To her hair and smile To me, as I am, every night, as I tremble. I to him am the wall.
My eyes were watching carefully. My breath was cold, I could see it fly into the air. I stood outside on the steps of my little house waiting for a change in scenery.
The wind whistled and the rain fell heavily on my thin waterproof jacket. My bag of groceries fell on the floor, causing the bag to split and the groceries to fall out into a dirty pool of rain.
Jenny sat Clutching her bags To her chest Oppressed By the encroaching tangle Of arms, of legs, of heads As the train clanked To London Bridge.
My husband and I. We had a fight. So into the car. In the dead of night. Off I drove. With nowhere to go. Off I drove. To I don't know. Then all of a sudden. The car did stop. The car had died.
I shout and scream, And cry and weep, And moan and yell, Out on the streets. Can't you hear it, My silent howls, My muffled shrieks, The sound is foul.
The sun is gone. Nowhere to be seen. Around me people are shouting and running. All I crave is silence and solitude. This story is not a romance. This story is not anything listed. This story is life.
The sun beating through stones breaks on the window shining rays of golden hatred into the misanthropic headspace. In this cocoon lies the great pussy of the western world.
I sit looking through the window, this pane of glass that separates me from the passers by, I watch them, their lives so different to mine so busy so focused, they don't see me, they don't know I'm...
The office was soaked in shadow, the desk cubicles of the 15th floor empty of the vibrancy that had filled them all day - all but one.
Chapter 6 - I was young; a lost soul. Since mum had fucked off I was sitting at home again by myself mutilating dolls as I always do.
Night. It's hot. The power's out. It's damn hot. Can't-breathe hot. You drag yourself out of bed and try swatting a mosquito that's been pissing about your head for God-knows-how-long. You miss.
There wouldn't be insomnia If loneliness weren’t living in the city… Love is spilled all over your swallow eyes This summer isn’t hot , but hell… The sun hasn’t rised yet… Chatters are coming like...
He was watching them again. They were both looking up at him, squinting against the sun which was behind the block of flats, transforming it into a looming silhouette.
Sitting on a park bench Looking for pigeons to feed, Ignoring the crumpled newspaper That I brought to read.