Tundra

Tundra filled the cold room - the breeze icy and arctic a welcome contrast to the heat of the kitchen. The sun is fighting for existence, poking, hinting and then retreating... and still the drums roll and tundra hurtles through like an S&M roller coaster - studded and coarse, a sledgehammer to the senses.
It soothes, calms and clears the mind eventually becoming part of my soul. The windows rattle, the bottles shake and Archie is scared, ears twittering and tail nervously jigging.
It seven minutes of eary madness leaving me breathless and every time - a thousand more since nineteen seventy seven - leaving me wanting more.

Skag Knife

She pulled out her skag knife. It glinted, it appalled, it looked dirty and I longed for a closer look but it was gone as quickly as it became and once more i continue to look for the touch of the filthy skag knife.

Cats

Do cats like bad people?
Do they just like everybody that treats them well?
Are cats just like himans?
Or are humans just like cats?

London

I watched London leave through the dirty coach windows and all I could think about was her. A restaurant we loved yet failed to return to since. The cravings for nicotine, tea and sex and those mornings of love seem like some other time. Somebody Else's other time.

A few seats forward the shadow of a man lurches violently with a cough that is a pleasant reminder I should smoke less and less reds. It would irritate me but I felt sorry for him and wished I had some water. A bad cough is a terrible thing. Irritation came from the Saville Row suited kid or hormone deficient man sat to my immediate right. Tapping into his phone with an annoying repetition of a man who has to be doing something. Music too loud floating into the fan-assisted silence, I even heard our song but that is becoming standard these days. Almost like a ticking time bomb. A Japanese couple sleep on each other, curled up in the way only couples can on a coach and it made me realise that we had never had a chance to leave this filthy city, we had never made time. Bubble love. London is.
It seems a shame one city, one moment in time defined us. Sad.

London speeds by and sooner at this time of night rather than later it is Hillingdon - a pit stop, a a benchmark, a landmark to a better place. Soon it is the motorway and soon it is home. Though I cant help but feel, cliched as it is, that home is where the heart is. A basement flat in Peckham of all places, somebody elses home as it always has been.

I miss acting on a heartbeat.
I do miss being me.
I think one day I may find myself again but until then i shall remain Mr Nobody.