One Some days she loves me. Some days she hates me. And some days she can’t make up her mind.I don’t blame her,I understand. Nobody is perfect. Least of all me. So I get up. Get dressed. Shirt and tie. Aftershave.Paracetamol.I go to work. The dealership on the corner. Clock in.Clock out. “I’m buying.” “I’mContinue reading “Drive Home”
Tag Archives: writing
Lighting Fires
Walking through the station.All human life is here.Someone is playing piano.Drawing a crowd.Keep moving.Gordon street,Summer light.People everywhere.Music playing across the road.Couple arguing on the corner.Making my way through the crowd.Light of the living.Am I just getting older?Time without reason.Or purpose.But the days that rustHaven’t got me yet. The lonely spot, where you watched them walkContinue reading “Lighting Fires”
Shore
Looking down on the water. My car parked by the wall.Two weeks since I moved into this hotel down by the shore. It’s seen better days, but it’s still standing.Kind of like me.Swanky resorts are for accountants and bloodless retreats. Here, I’m meeting ghosts.The guy smoking on the step with his pal. Or the lassieContinue reading “Shore”
Rain
Rain. Rain. The endless rain.I couldn’t sleep for the rain.Falling on the window, on the door.Leaking through the roof,dripping in pots in the hallway.I had to move the bed, cos it was below a leak.The water mark on the ceiling getting bigger as the days run on,and sleep doesn’t come,and the whole world feels tilted.SitContinue reading “Rain”
Context (Version 2)
Someone messaged me: “I like your writing, but do you need to swear so much?”It just comes fucking naturally. We’re Scottish. It’s who we are.I told them:Two friends talking about a mutual pal, someone you can rely on, says, “Aye, he’s a good cunt.”See two folk on the bus, a few beers to the wind.Continue reading “Context (Version 2)”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 