the night life.

I like to sleep in the cold, because the fierce chill of the night wind always reminds me that i’m still alive, i’m still breathing, and things wont always be this easy. It isn’t all dreaming and wishful thinking.

but the street lights will fade and the dawn will break, and I wont need that wind to remind me anymore, because with the rising of the sun our secrets disappear, the things we said are no longer acceptable. The darkness is our secret mask, disguising our true feelings and making them seem real.

Well please promise me this, when the sun comes up, you’ll still think of me and you’ll remember those words we said, but you wont utter a single one outloud, cause these are the secrets the night keeps.

and these are the secrets we’ll never tell.

goodbye forever

we’re hiding out in abandoned buildings, hiding our fears in the walls and our hearts in the crumbling architecture. The ceilings are collapsing in on us, like the people we once knew, and the times we used to spend.

we can’t go outside, everything we once remembered has collapsed around us, the cityscape no longer resembles anything we know, the walls are covered in blood, the streets stench of rotting flesh, the sky is burning.

we have killed ourselves,

London is burning.

The Reality of waking up in Vegas

Bright Lights, Sexy girls, sun, huge hotels and winning money, a magical haven set in the Nevada desert.

well they arn’t lying about the desert part, scorching July heat beats down on you from 8am, causing you to break a sweat after walking a mere few feet.  The ‘Deuce’ bus at $7 for 24hours is a sure bargin, but is it worth standing at the side of the road having ‘one dollar water’ shouted in your ear over and over, for twenty minutes then standing on a packed bus for half an hour to get to the next hotel, The monerail, speady, cool, what could be wrong with that? $5 for a single trip, that is what.  I no longer have a complaint for TFL.

Walking down the strip (I decided to sweat over public transportation) you meet everything society supposedly hates about home, drunken louts, pushy touts and roadworks. The offer of ‘babes direct to your door’ is thrusted in your face, scantily clad girls and sunburnt boys with novelty oversized cups (compensating for something?) judge you everywhere you go.

Everything is a desperate bid for you to spend every dollar you have in their casino/hotel, $21 dollars for 24 hours of wifi in the hotels, a $50 a night fee to upgrade to a hotel room within walking distance, you need google maps just to find your way to the hotel room.

The food is what you would typically expect in America, Oversized and overfried. Yes, a lot of it was very tasty but there was enough to feed the homeless for years, but that is okay, you can over eat at the buffets as much as you like as you’ll work it all off trying to cross the road.

it takes about half an hour to walk from one hotel to the next, there is no straight crossing the road, you have to go up and down escalators, across bridges and over moving walkways.

the atmosphere never changes, whether you are in the Bellagio or a $10 a night motel, they still make you feel like you’re are in some sort of 1984 media funfare, you can feel the cctv watching your every move, and the security checking you out. There is no escaping the advertising, whether its a billboard for health insurance or a TV add for Viagra, it is everywhere, you will never feel relaxed, constantly being forced unnecessary information in a desperate bid to keep the tourism alive.

Vegas is to put it simply, Southend on sea, with little added pleasure, and a lot more heat. But why do people flock here month after month and feel it fun to loose all their money and come home piss poor?

because it is the only place in the world deemed socially acceptable to do all the things at home, you would be judged and looked down upon for doing at the age of 45, but please, I have seen enough middle aged midriff to last me a life time, there is nothing to say there is an age limit to being drunk and scantily clad, but Vegas reaks of lack of self respect.

I wish i was a little bit taller

I wish I had something to be proud of, something that could cause a reaction, musicians play to cheering crowds, artists draw to admirers, sportsmen play for love and team, and writers, we sit in silence and have a mutal respect, understanding for a string of words with such beauty people can not recreate, but I, I have myself, and that is nothing to be proud of.

Please just save me from this darkness

And as the sun slowly rises in the east i”ll think of you, and all those things we could have done together, and I’ll remember those nights we spent chasing the last shadows of the night around the city. When we were alone with the lost souls, left behind in with their facades as the cool became uncool and the kids lost faith. Before the sun came up and the people reappeared, I’ll think of the opportunities we had to be together and to fall in love under the dark night sky alone together with the stars, when nothing else matters but the thought of you. When the stars stole the night

ghosts that broke my heart

my words won’t make sense, my spelling will fail and my grammar will let you down, but that doesn’t matter, as long as you can understand the message I am trying to send you.

This is a war, a battle between two parts, testing our strength and will. People are watching us, following our story, waiting to see who will fall first, who will call it quits.

But I won’t, There are trenches keeping us apart, and the bombs just seem to fall harder when I get closer, but I avoid them all, and you’re still not there.

The battles, they are not just for you and I, but for ourselves by ourselves and if these wars keep going on, and we keep giving up, how can we ever succeed?

I will never fall at the first hurdle, I will not give the onlookers what they want, instead I will walk the 1,000 miles to you, with this letter in my hand, across the trenches, avoiding the bombs and ignoring the cries for help.

I will see nothing else but you, you are what I am fighting for.

And in the end, I will place this letter in your hand, and I will know I have won.

I offered myself as the sea

foreword – i’m drunk, this might not make any sense.

I can’t figure a better way to die than to be swollwed whole by the sea, to be surounded by lost spirits, those people who never had the chance to explore, to grow old and experiance the things we always did, to those who died at war, or in search of something so much more than a putrid city life.

for the lovers lost at sea, who never got that second touch, promises kept to the ladies of land waiting for their return, waving hankies goodbye, loving on the never never, they never thought it would be goodbye forever, they never knew this was the end.

The secret affairs that rot and rust at the bottom of the great oceans, never to be discovered by anyone, left at peace stuck in time of the moment they died, shipwrecks that will one day be towed away for scrap, the stories and lives of those left will live forever at the bottom of the sea, at one with the marine life,

I can’t think of a better way to die, than to be swallowed by the sea.

The skies full of zeros and ones

Lets take our bikes, Lets take our bikes and ride far, far away.

we can forget everyone, everything, no more internet, no more newspapers, no more gossip.

we’ll ride through Russia, we’ll ride for years, with no real destination, but we’ll be together, and it’ll be all we need to stay alive.

we’ll spend our days riding barefoot through the pure summer air,  there wont be a building for miles and miles, all you can smell is summer, the pollen flies past us tiny little particles looping around us as free as we feel.

we see the sun come down, and the moonlight spread through the sky, it’s lighting the way for us. The stars so bright, for the people we’ve left behind, we don’t miss them, and by now we are hardly a memory, just a flash of somebody you used to know when the name is spoken aloud.

you and I and a moonlit path, one night when the emptiness gets too much, one night when we’ve seen every side of each other, one night when we’ve touched every part of each other, one night when the moon stops shining so bright and we can’t remember what it feels like to see another,

maybe then we’ll go home, wearing our weathered skin as a medal, proving we can live without your rules, your shops and your gossip. maybe one day we’ll go home, and we’ll see friends we once knew, and they’ll say ‘we missed you, oh how we’ve missed you’

and we’ll smile at each other, because we know it’s not true, and we know now we’re back, things might change, but it will always be you and I.

it’s always you and I.

Tender is the night.

My present life is infused in a romantic love affair with the past. These novels I read, these pictures I watch, all such a beauty we no longer portray.

My thoughts are entangled with the words of great writers, once such prominent names now dismissed for a newer model.

I want to live the life of these glamorous leading ladies in my dreams; I want to be adored, a rich beautiful socialite in post war America, walking the streets in the finest dresses, with a man in the richest silk suites. The last beams of the afternoon sun marking our shadows on the clear pavement, The smell of fresh rain in the air, and the gentle hum of a city closing down.

But none of that is real now, for the finest dresses are now the brightest tracksuits, and the finest silk is replaced with the finest technology.

We have lost all sense of real beauty.
We have lost all sense of ourselves.

unforgetable.

In the middle of the night, when the city is asleep and the people are hiding under the security of their blankets, We’ll grab our bikes and go riding through the city, down deserted roads that look like a ghost town past window displays where even the dimly lit mannequins look dead.

The homeless sleep in shop doors, the traffic lights are stuck on green, we’ll never see another person because this is our ghost town and only we can explore the tiny nooks and crannies of a hidden city, because when the sun is up and the streets are full, you never stop to look, you walk with your head down, music in, like another brainless,soulless member of society.

but the sun starts to come up and the birds start to tweet, the traffic lights turn red and the street lights disappear, the business men in suits walk like zombies to another day of 9-5 and the ghosts go back to haunted attics.

and we’ll ride home, sleep all day and wake up to do it all again tonight.