Copper, No Silver

I managed to count out ninety eight pence in copper. No silver. That’s a luxury at the moment. Only the dull and dirty copper stained green, blue and black. Its become a sad state of affairs recently. Where I have to walk twice as far to the local shop because I owe fifty pence to the closest and my self-loathing and pity stops me going in there. I just need milk and bread and that will get me through the day. I bought tea bags yesterday. Sugar the day before. I have no butter but stole some Strawberry Jam. Each day I figure if I search all and everywhere I will find enough loose change to get me through the next day.

Beetroot

Beetroot stained fingers of scars and warts hint towards the abyss of abandonment that this life brings - gift-wrapped with blunt wrappers and tied with the entrails of a pig.

Lighter Conspiracy

Where do all the fucking lighters go?
Really?
If everybody is asking the question, then surely, it can only mean one thing. There is the biggest conspiracy being perpetuated before our very eyes. Somehow lighters are the experimental first use of nano technology. Lighters that are In fact a million little specs no bigger than a micrometre. Engineered, programmed with instructions. Access to Google Maps and Swiss Army Knife. Nano like of course. They just run back to the shops. Its experimental technology. Sometimes they get lost. Sometimes it all goes wrong but mostly they make it back safe. Safe to the shops for us fuckers to buy them again.

Peckham - The Land of White Gold

The sun is glaring. Its evil intent to off guard London and its malice smile burn and blister a population carrying umbrellas to work. I leave shortly after the rain has fallen for what seems like an eternity, The pavement feels sodden and the trees lining York Grove hung heavy and tired. My nose is warning my of the impending stream of symptoms I will start to feel as the day unwinds unfortunately not with the gently lullaby accompanying a dancing ballerina but more with the sound of an ancient torture device being used slowly and with great precision on bone. My bowels ache and my stomach is churning. Nicotine, nicotine and nicotine feeds the pain and the codeine gently starts to weave its magic on my stoned, tired and jaded mind.

I look into the street dotted with big, expensive black cars. Peckham. Land of gold it would appear if you are willing to accept gold is sometimes white and brown.