The sun is almost one-hundred years old. It hangs and sets like gesso: hard.

These are words: lonely, fur, opening. I am aware of the scent of your fingers. These are also words: apostrophe, rape, death. I can imagine you: like this: you, your between-the-legs open. Ankles covered by socks, bed knees drawn below your chin: exposed.

The sun does not risk itself. It burns knowingly.

It will be dark when you read this: it is always dark when the black-sun eats a hole to consume its breakfast. As the reader you will ask an unanswered question. You will read this sentence twice: you will read this sentence twice until you are certain you misunderstood the question. Here is the question again: ?

I lied: the sun is only as old as July. It reinvents itself for every new month.

—  diary

Algy had been looking at many beach photos posted by his friends on Tumblr recently, so when the sun decided to honour the West Highlands with its presence for one day, Algy knew exactly what to do. He hurried down to the beach, and stretched himself out luxuriously on the warm sand. He had to admit that it didn’t look quite like the photos of the Mediterranean and other seaside resorts that he had seen, but it was undoubtedly pleasant, and the unusual ridged patterns that the wind and rain had created in the sand made it more interesting to look at than most pleasure beaches.

Have a happy, relaxing weekend, everyone xoxo

you wake up one morning only to find the things you’ve been keeping inside your hands slowly turning into liquid–worse, gas–and you couldn’t do anything but watch.

and you thought you were already strong enough to not let them escape your grip, and you thought you were certain that this time would be different, but surprise, baby love–you still are that weak little girl even after a long time of pretending you are strong.

now say hello to your old self.

but you love him just the same, don’t you? despite your certainty that he is uncertain about you–don’t you, don’t you? and you say you two are both falling; you–in love with him, and him–out of love with you. and this is what keeps you up at night; wishing you aren’t right.

now say hello to your old self.

—  i.v.c., “Uncertainty”

“Baby, remember the first time you stayed round mine?” He asked with a crooked grin and sad eyes. She sighed as she remembered how they’d tried to make dinner, but ended up ordering pizza anyway because they’d both known it wouldn’t be edible.

“I remember it all. You held me all night and kissed me between shots of that vodka you liked so much. You made me feel so fucking special. You loved me then.” She answered him with the heartache she’d never been able to suppress.

He wanted to tell her he still loved her, that he hardly slept anymore because no amount of vodka and sleeping pills were strong enough to replace the memory of her always warm body and the way she’d fit perfectly in his arms. He’d never been able to give her all of him, to take all of her, so he opted to take none and left her crying in the wake of their love, of what could’ve been.

She watched him with the memory of that summer, of that heartache, of all she’d hoped for them bubbling at the surface of her emotions and she could almost feel his lips on hers again, like they’d never left.

—  Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #1
They say that when you stop chasing the wrong people, you give the right people the chance to find you. I don’t think that’s necessarily true. When you stop chasing the people who do nothing but damage you, you give yourself chance the opportunity to find out who  you are. Stop making life a quest to find other people and grab onto them like they can save you, because the truth is that no one can save you but yourself.
—  A note to myself. I’m learning to care more about my opinion of who I am rather than another person’s opinion of me.
27 – Cloud Machine

Three smokestacks, painted like a candy cane, loomed over the field where we played in at recess time. I often found myself watching those big red cloud-machines instead of joining the other boys at play. Even now as a so-called grownup, whenever they catch my eye, I can’t help but stare. To me, in a way, they were a part of my Dad. Every morning he would walk me to school before going to work in the light blue building at the base of those smokestacks. I liked to think of him as chief cloud designer, but I never knew for sure what he did there.
This morning, however, my Dad did not join me on my walk to school. I had awoken to an empty house. I yelled out for my Mom and Dad, but no answer. I sat at the kitchen table waiting around for them for some time until I realized that I would probably have to make my own way to school. I dressed myself and headed out the door. Though I knew the way there, I had never walked to school alone before. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me feel sad.
My tummy rumbled at recess as I quietly picked at the dried of pieces of Play-Doh stuck to my fingernails. That sad feeling hadn’t quite gone away and I was missing my Dad. The big puffy white clouds were pouring out nicely from the smokestacks, so I assumed that he was able to make it to work on time. Or, I hoped he did.
The loud droning bell rang out, signalling the end of recess. All the other kids around me dropped their toys and made their way the doors of the school, but I couldn’t move. My eyes remained to those smokestacks. Maybe if I sat there long enough watching them, wishing upon them, my Dad would appear.
The growing silence as all children left the field; it was peaceful, perfect for watching the clouds. My moment of quiet was soon interrupted by the sound of the teacher’s voice. She had used that same tone earlier that morning as she scolded me for being late, as well as many times before that. I did my best to ignore her, but as her voice drew closer I knew that I would have to make a move.
I sprung to my feet and darted towards those three candy canes. The teacher behind me shouted and gave chase. She was gaining on me. Luckily my tiny legs were much quicker than her’s. I sprinted through the field fast than any child could even dream of. I needed to see my Dad. My lungs began to burn as I made it to the edge of the field, one more step and I would be off school property. I was losing my breath, but my eyes never left those smokestacks.
I was crossing the parking lot, almost at that light blue building, when it happened: the smokestacks stopped making clouds. Not single white puff was coming out of them, as if all at once they had completely run dry. My heart sank and I stopped running. Something was wrong, very wrong, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I just knew at that moment that my Dad would not be waiting for me there.
Tears began to fill my eyes and the teacher eventually caught up with me. She took my arm and dragged me all the way back to school. I was taken to the principal’s office where, after a few stern words, the principal told me that she would be calling my parents. My tears were almost dry at this point and I was almost glad that she would be speaking to my parents, maybe then I would find out what had happened to them. She dialled the number and I waited attentively, but after a few moments on the phone she gave me a frown and sent me back to class without another word.
When the day finally came to a close with no word from my parents, I found myself once again walking alone. My stomach started to churn inside of me. Maybe they left because I was a bad son. Maybe they didn’t want me anymore. Maybe the cloud machine would never turn back on.
I made it back to my home and found my Mom waiting there for me. Her appearance was worn as if she had been up all night. I wanted to run to her and give her a hug, but something wasn’t right. Something was missing. She sat me down to have a talk, her voice shaking. My Dad wouldn’t be walking me to school anymore.

He tells me sunsets are cool but you used to whisper that the sunset was almost as beautiful as I am. You called
me honey like the thick sweet stuff that fell from your lips and left me messy.
—  I’m nostalgic for our unlived love (coffeekisseswords)

Dear friends,
I’d truly appreciate if you’d check out my new single on bandcamp, and if you dig it, it’s a 99 cent download.
I wrote it back in November, and it’s about growing up, getting lost, and some advice given to me by Langhorne Slim earlier that year.
It’s the first recording I’ve made that I’m truly proud of.