Why do I wallow? because I feel that's all I have.

I got home from work not long ago. I had some pizza, chocolate cake and a cup of tea.

Listening to The Verve, the drugs apparently don't work, someone should have told me earlier. I have been eating a lot and I have gained a nice little belly. I am job applying again, because my 2 shift a week roster won't be sufficient enough to get me to London. One day I'll be sipping tea in a mouldy appartment, keeping warm by candlelight, I want it more now, because you said no.

Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning.

Today I journeyed to the other side of town, to visit my dear Sarah. We had a lovely day, full of french cheese and wine and gin and berries and sunlight chatter on the balcony. My eyes are stinging now from travelling on fluorescent trains and walking in cold night air.

Oh something wonderful will happen, I am sure! Just dance to Feist and apply to work in quirky cafes.

So the rain stopped me from gardening. Instead, I smoked in it until I was as drenched as my cigarette. Now I am making myself tea because I am terribly cold. I don't think the rain caused my coldness.

Today I am alone so I am going to garden, i'll pack my camels in my top and a pot of tea on the deck. I won't forget a jumper, because it's grey outside and i will try, really try, to remember.

it follows me on the train, when I am walking the narrow streets, sitting drinking coffee or smoking on the deck. It's always there , sitting in shafts of brain and muscle, festering. i want to scream, scream so loud that i would explode and it would disapear into the drizzle, into the night that descends around me.

I spent the day eating. A glass of wine at lunch to make me dizzy. Then an afternoon watching the sun fade and listening to music outside. I know that as each day passes I am acheiving little, but part of me doesn't mind the excessive hours of silence and I am becoming used to the distance that spreads itself between me and humanity. It's so easy to become accustomed to new situations but so very hard to find your way back.

the rain stopped and the dragonflies were darting about the sky, her face was black from tears and rain as she shivered there, bones and anxiety.

too much mashed potato, half a cup of lukewarm tea for the undeserving Vittoria, pools of liquid filling each other, warm night air after much cold, thoughts of jazz eyes and smokey throats, utter emptiness and lack of inspiration, staying in bed far too long that you become sticky with stillness and your bones begin to burn, burn. heart pains (literal ones, not metaphorical), some gin and ice, lying amidst piles of clothing that no longer belong in a wardrobe, reading and forgetting how to talk. are you scared of death? there are bats in the trees. No.

I need Holly. I need Holly now.

I made lovely toast with ricotta, cinnamon and sugar for lunch/breakfast. It was so nice. Then I gave myself crazy black eyes.

My tobacco hands will hold your words forever.

Yes there they are again and those clouds are oh so heavy on your head. So you let the teabag go dry, stared at the wilting paper, soggy and breaking in your hands and you knew those words were lost forever.

I am listening to The Panics and wondering why my vains are really quite blue. Sometimes my eyes get so dark I am sure fires have gone out in there and now only ash lingers, reminiscent of another time.

It's cold and it's raining and I think loneliness is Romantic, so cut me open if you wish. You will only find vacancy.

sorry darling, i am just so empty.

I took them with a glass of wine and the hope that my brain would lose its pain.

I made great apple porridge with cinnamon and brown sugar this morning. Then made some tea and watched the morning light scatter itself around the living room.

I just want a gun
so I can shoot the sky
and watch the stars fall
because I am sick of them
watching me.

Drunken nights, shared cigarettes, starry skies, rusty days, blurry eyes and fire in our heads.

Despite the howling cold wind, I couldn't be warmer.