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I wrote a message today.

Didn’t press send.

Too afraid of what it would entail.


I thought of something to say.

Kept it to myself.

Too afraid of how it might sound.


I felt something in me.

Pushed it away.

Too afraid of what it would mean.


I keep losing every day.

But it’s fine.

I’m not afraid of the same hurts.


Blue Neighbourhood



Windows shut.

Doors closed.

Feet slap asphalt against darkened starless sky.

Voices murmur.

Thoughts thrum.

Stained cheeks puff cascading tears that won’t dry.

Chest heaving.

Heart palpitating.

Gasps weighed in swirling crushing sigh.

Solitude beckons.

Remorse implores.

My blue neighbourhood where scarlet wrists cry.

Love will tear us apart


Darkness pervaded claustrophobic breadth.

Red-rimmed orbs.

Hitching chest.

Trembling hand raised before bated breath.


“You don’t have to do this.” cries a voice.

Hand reaching.

Heart screaming.

Drowned before grating discordant noise –

Do you cry out in your sleep?
All my feelings exposed.
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold
Is it something so good
Just can’t function no more?

He watches reaching hand in pallid light

Cold steel cools.

Shivers still.

Final thoughts before bewitching sight.


The music stops and only silence ensues,

then footsteps

and mono-syllabic cry

For curling finger each hurried step pursues.

Love. Love will tear us apart.

Failure: Writers Remorse


Well its the end of NaNoWriMo and all I got to show for it is an incomplete 22 166 word manuscript, some horribly written shorts and a serious guilt-ridden conscience from handing deadlines in late…again. You’d think all that pressure would bop me hard enough against the head that I’d wake up and do some proper writing but Lieutenant Lazy and Professor Procrastinator won in the end. Worst super-heroes ever.

The Novel

Junk Yard Angel continues as normal. I’m half way through the novel and the plot as I see it in my head (and on my Whiteboard at work) is moving along steadily. I have all the main events plotted and ready for my characters to arrive at them and cause the mayhem and chaos they are supposed to. You know how characters can be.

Horribly Written Shorts

None of them will ever see the light of the Blog-0-sphere! They shall forever remain hidden from thine eyes. You can look forward to some proper stuff now, including the, hopefully, long awaited Auburn short that has been on hold for quite a while now.

Guilt Ridden Conscience

My editor is one gracious guy (not trying to score brownie points here, really) and he’s had to, unfortunately, endure my *procrastinative ways which is really not fair on him, his partner and the magazine. In short, if my articles are of sub-par standard he cannot publish them and because I’ve handed them in late, there is no time to fix them and therefore the magazine is short of articles. What’s worse? Because its a gaming magazine, it has to contend with many other online magazines and one cannot Review a game a month after everybody has if one is to remain at the top. So now I aim to finish any and all writing mid-way through the month and give him and his partner enough time to read, review and if need be, return what I’ve written so that I can improve it. This writing isn’t just about me.

And now a poem.

Lieutenant Lazy and Professor Procrastinator

Lieutenant Lazy drives me crazy,
Sitting in his lazyboy chair,
feet up in the air
doesn’t give a hoot, doesn’t even care
Everything he does leaves your head hazy

Professor Procrastinator
Oh don’t even get me started

The End


* Procrastinative –  I claim rights to this word

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