Birthday

Blu-Tack

Winter Kiss

And so he climbed into Andrew Wagner's vaginal passage
to claim the debt...

Finding love on lonesome snow. By Casey Edmunds.

Once. I had. A. Girl.
She smelt like bacon does. Fresh cut pork. She was so beautiful.
Little blue eyes, no limbs. Easy to carry.

She would whisper to me. Words carried on breath. Simple wishes on air. To have a body.

I made you one didn't I my love? Well yes I did you bitch. Daddy loves you fucker.

I placed you in fallen clouds. Crafted you a body of white innocence.

But then I crushed you. Pressed you to bits my baby. Under my weight you died.

The body made was destroyed by my spunk.

YOU PORK BITCH!!!!

You should have loved me MEG RYAN!!!!

The little things.

Snow, exposed then hidden again for the split second it passes the street light. I wonder if its the same snow on loop. Like some colossi's boots kicking up dust down an endless road. Right then I realised we'd never see the end of this winter in our lives.

I drag my feet through the trenches of paper work, mass graves of unsolved cases. Fruitless leads. The patches of floor that are visible are tarred sticky with years of spilt coffee. In the corner is an obelisk of forgotten CCTV tapes and spent .357 shells.

The unfaltering candle light that is the lamp post remains present at my window. Making more of an impact now and the snow seems to be giving up its assault.

For a second I swear there was a piglet in the halogen fire mouthing the words "Cunting Nonse bot".

The Receiver