There were moments.
I was slipping in and out of moments.
I was hazed by the stacks of lights that swung above me
and my eyes were forced to re-align themselves.
The air was worn out, ragged, heavy air,
it was the kind of air you found on planes;
Re-cycled and reverberating through your lungs,
the capillaries in my chest stretching in an attempt to push it round my body.
There was white noise coming from straight a head
but eventually I managed to focus and begin to read the autocue.
The message was simple.
The message was translated through years …

I’ve seen you standing on the balcony. The house is gone but you’re still there. Its raining but it not just rain.
Three feet of cable round your neck and the weather still has the last word.
Its always February when things end. Somewhere in the middle
not of winter but of words. Not everything is as it should be.
The snow goes up and the birds come down.
The water won’t come and play
The jets are flying underground.
We feel them shake beneath our feet.
Where is the war? How can they launch …

I sit here, I am alone and still. As father speaks, he paces the room, a cellar room, lined with an old red carpet and painted a faded pink; a decorative choice I had assumed was here when we moved in. He talked slowly, choosing his words carefully, each with caution and attention, but also with unbridled excitement…”

“I’m a 6ft manchild from the South West and when I grow up I’d like to be a teacher. But until then, I try to do a bit of writing.

- Mark (twenty and a half years old)”

“the children saw the shooting star fall into the playground. and though it was past their bedtime they all ran out to find it and find it they did amidst the swings and slides and heaps of shredded pipes and metal that were no longer safe for them to play around. they gather around the lip of the crater and peer down at what has fallen into their little kingdom. they whisper and nudge and point and laugh and cry and one of them steps forward and begins slowly to move toward it…”

“the crowd begins to dissipate. the police are speaking to the last few eyewitnesses of which there were plenty. people like to talk. especially to those who look interested and take notes. murder is not an uncommon crime in the city but it does not take place on a crowded highstreet often and the lucky bystanders are more than willing to speculate on the hows and whys.
a young man with a press id attempts conduct his own investigation but his sources interrupt and contradict one another without cease more interested in ensuring the correct spelling of their names than giving an accurate report…”

“I am not a tall person, but I seem shorter than I am because I tend to slouch. A chav once told me I was the prettiest girl he had seen that day, but he was probably just being nice. I worry about things and daydream excessively.”

This fortnight:‘American Psycho’, ‘An Education’, ‘Deconstructing Harry’, ‘Definitely Maybe’, ‘The Devil Wears Prada’, ‘The Invention of Lying’, ‘The King of Comedy’, ‘Let the Right One In’, ‘My Summer of Love’, ‘The Princess Diaries’, ‘Sherlock Holmes’ and ‘Wonder Boys’.

I went to the cinema a few times and got popcorn every single time…

“This fortmonth:‘Adaptation’, ‘The Darjeeling Limited’, ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’, ‘Humpday’, ‘I Love You Beth Cooper’, ‘In Search of a Midnight Kiss’, ‘Jennifer’s Body’, ‘Paper Heart’, ‘Shopgirl’, ‘Sour Grapes’, ‘What’s Up, Doc?’, ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ and ‘Where the Wild Things are’.

I went to the cinema a few times and got popcorn every single time…”

It was what the aged folks referred to as ‘a high old time’,
or what the papers might call ‘a drink and drugs binge’.
He was a drifter, sometimes. Spent a while in a penthouse flat,
in New York, New York, til they caught up with him.
With his suit and scent, he’d shoot up in 7th floor apartments
with chicanos, cutting up with their green cards and putting
the world to rights. An hour later, he’d be shaking hands with
Senators.
In between the flat and the Brooklyn brownstone, he’d scatter
singles like pignuts to the dispossessed. One …

“Idler, scrounger, loafer, waistcoat devotee and appreciator of fancy biscuits. Has been known to wear hats. Police say foul play cannot be ruled out.”

“He is a fan of Pavement, Elliott Smith, Of Montreal, Stewart Lee, scary biscuits, and watching people run for the bus. His tip for 2009 is Deep Sea Diver and a financial recession.”

“What?”
For a moment his words washed over me. My right leg twitched. That throbbing pain again. A light in the distance blinked and swayed, seeming to change colour all the time. Now red, green, blue…Where was that smoke coming from?
“It’s over,” he repeated.
Ignore the pain. It’s all in your head. Focus, focus…With difficulty, I lifted my head towards the voice. A large shard of glass that wasn’t quite implanted in my scalp fell to the ground, soundlessly. I felt a warm liquid trace its way languidly down my spine. The …

“…I enjoy writing both creative and journalistic pieces in my spare time, but my favourite pieces to write are usually personal reflectives. My stories usually have a dark or comedic theme running through them.”

something hit me across my shoulders and my gun skittered away across the cobbles. ive never been in the old towns before. jones yells at me and i chase my firearm down the street in the opposite direction that the guy ran off so i dont know how this happened but next thing i know my face is copying the revolver and sliding across the frozen winter stones while that fucker staggers back from a wall his nose running red from where he smashed it on the old bricks. i …

This edition: ‘Away We Go’, ‘Bitter Moon’, ‘Brazil’, ‘Drag me to Hell’, ‘Fish Tank’, ‘The Fearless Vampire Killers’, ‘Get Smart’, ‘Into The Wild’, ‘L.A. Confidential’, ‘Lawn Dogs’, ‘Magnolia’, ‘Margot at the Wedding’, ‘Punch-Drunk Love’, ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, ‘The Squid and the Whale, ‘True Romance’, ‘Up’ , ‘Whatever Works’ and ‘Zombieland’…”

Slumped on sofas we watch the bustling room in terror,
Keeping forced mouths upturned, coming here was an error,
Pissed up preppy girls on the arms of ‘flash your cash’ gangsters and leering men,
Think its time to go to the bar and get another drink, or ten.
We manoeuvre through crowds of clicking heels, flicking hair,
Take our position at the bar, packed in tight but no-one’s aware.
Glasses ring, pushed together as the punters are told,
An extortionate price tag, the vodka should be laced with gold.
Makeup and hair filled restroom,
Choking, on a dense mist …

Stepping from the dark warmth immediately hit by the cold,
The taxi drivers claiming low fares, with wide eyed stares,
He walked, I skipped and talked with a sense of purpose,
A smile on my face, a ribbon in my hair,
The walk may have lasted forever, I couldn’t have cared, until the bus drove past,
But we carried on happy from the thrill of the night.
Early morning London still feels like the night,
With tiredness at bay and only the cold –
Shoulder looks tell us it all must have passed,
As the businessmen march across the …

“I study at Brunel University and my poetry is mainly focused around London as i enjoy going out there. My work surrounds weird but wonderful nights out with friends, discovering the city.”

“Ahh, I’m gasping for a fag, that bloody woman is always moaning, the silly cow always looks a state anyway, no wonder why her husband left her for a younger woman eh Olivia?”
I was in my own world; a world that only I had access to, a world where everything was perfect, where a fresh array of lilac and pink flowers bloomed around me constantly, where there was nothing but stretches of green land and blue skies, where materialism was alien and most of all, where everybody that …