And quietly say it again, my dear.

There’s nobody here.

Go on…

Tell me what you think I want to hear;

You know I’ll play along.

It’s OK.

It’s OK that your truth is a web of lies;

Lurking behind every darting glance –

So kiss me.

Burn me with the fire behind your eyes.

As we perform this sultry dance.

Hold me.

We’re getting too good at this game.

Do you even remember her when we’re – ?

Lie to me.

Lie to me as you say my name;

Love me with your truth.


And quietly say it again, my dear.

It’s OK; there’s nobody here.






Not sure where the inspiration for this came from…

Jo Sutherland

It must have been something to do with the full moon, he thought, because the night found him so unbearably lonely. Aside from worrying about every aspect of life, John had begun to profusely bleed from his anus. Perhaps this would amuse her, he wondered as he peeled a layer of stubborn tissue away from the offending orifice. If he hadn’t been so excited about the danger, he’d be ashamed and riddled with guilt. The experience taught him that love is a sham and that he couldn’t trust anyone – including himself. John learnt the hard way. Indeed, it was very hard. In one moment, everything he thought he believed in, everything he thought he stood for was in fact – in his words – ‘bollocks’. John once said: ‘Passion is poison; it destroys every moral fibre’. No wonder he’s haemorrhaging. 

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