Forever Loving

Hearts xxx

What once were endless summer days, and tender nights not counted

Sweetest whispers, love unbridled, days drift by embraced

And 69 more ways your soft pink flesh was nightly mounted

And your skin glowed with the blush of love’s seed spilled upon your face

The heart quickened, loins wet, thickened, hair pulled, lost souls intertwined

Gimp mask, red room, 12 inch pseudo love meat, I am yours and you are mine.

So spent, we lay in sheets soiled with the remnants of our love

we fit like trains into a tunnel, like large hand into small glove

And when no lube can dampen, when blue pills can not revive

Will we shuffle from this mortal coil, our passions still alive

Somewhere far beyond these night time stars that we once watched together,

Shall our memories drift slowly into inky black forever


Oh come on, it’s saturday, why not do something a little different.

The first 2 lines and the last two are kind of sweet I think.

Happy weekend you cheeky monkeys!

Over and out

a few random words

just waffly bits I’ve been scribbling…

Every day Cal would wake and think that today would be his last. Today, he was right.

With his engines offline he tumbled through space at 30000 miles an hour towards his inevitable destination. He stabbed at the lifeless console hoping to gain control of the ship but it remained unresponsive save for the blink of the life support system.

Peering out of the starboard portal the moon swung slowly and ominously into sight, and just beyond her horizon he saw the Earth he’d left behind and would now never return to.

He then smiled and sat back in his chair. waiting…

Let me love you like a serial killer

Damn, missed valentines day…

Oh won’t you let me climb inside you

Let me wear you like a skin

And to feel your heart a beating

And to touch you from within.


What you see I want to witness

When you hear ill hear it too

When you nap ill snooze inside you

Let me be there when you poo.


From your innards i can feel you

As I’m nestled in between

I can feel your pain quite clearly

‘Twixt your liver and your spleen


Oh let me crawl right up inside you

Wont you let me show u love

There inside your flesh and sinew

Let me wear you like a glove


My desire knows no limits

And my love is absolute

Here its warm and wet and safe

Inside my juicy love skin suit


G is for…Ghosts and Goblins

G, glorious G

You can read the genesis of this A-Z here.

Now onto g!

Sooooo many games to go at here…In fired up the machine this morning and oh such sweet memories.

We used Gauntlet on what felt like this massive machine but was really just all crammed onto one normal cabinet. It was bloody awesome.


And oh did u ever play this?

Golden axe!

Golden axe was just frigging fabulous…

How about Galaga and Galaxian?!?!

Oh how good were they…but it gets better…

Bloody gun smoke and gyruss!
Ghosts and Goblins

Ghosts and goblins was my favourite G though…your knight would lose his armour and end up in his underpants if enemies touched him…but oh what a treat it was. I was shit at it but it still brings back memories of playing it at the shop after school…


Words and more words

I made for you a garden

From the stars I stole from cloudless skies

And deep within earth’s warm embrace

Sprung forth as tears streamed down your face

And quiet you sat in this place

And waited patiently

Each passing day under the skies

With hope, new shoots turned into bloom

And brightly shine when sunset falls

Until the light like beacon calls

These shards of nightfall, heart enthrals

From shadows setting free

And with the seasons turning, living

Pass full circle, gold to green

Hearts warmed by light unwavering

And beauty bright, sweet savouring

Sweet tears of heaven favouring

Forever comforts thee

Screw You Haiku

A little light haiku relief…

Proof that haiku do not always have to be serious…

The life of the clown

by day bringing joy, by night

he’s under your bed

night time toilet trip

lights out, think I saw a clown

run back to bed scared

Long hair and tight jeans

he watches her walk and lusts

bugger, it’s a bloke!

hot tea before bed

up three times throughout the night

Damn old man’s bladder!

Shorts – Kin – Part 2 of 2

It’s something, right? Better than not doing something I suppose. Just about.

Just stuff I am spewing out as I attempt to get into a routine of writing every day (or close at least). Part 1 Here


The next morning came and went, both men sharing the bed, and Wilson enjoyed a breakfast of toast, Canadian butter, jams and sliced ham left for him on the table where they had drunk together the night before. There was also a small bowl of apples and oranges, and several pastries wrapped in a white napkin which he kept for later, not knowing when or if he would get to eat again.

He then spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon alone, anxiously pacing the room and then flicking through the pages of a small stack of travel magazines he had kept from being thrown away. Bali looked nice, he thought to himself. Quiet. Pretty. He wondered if maybe he could go there? Would anybody know?

He wondered what his other self-had been doing, mindful of the high standards he…they…he set for himself and realised that he had not sync’d, else he would have known. Taking the small device from the bedside table he placed his hand on it and waited. There was the familiar ping, and then…nothing. There was no information from the previous night. No memories, no download. The upload had been successful, and he had assumed that the sync might go both ways but  now it seemed not.

Wilson rationalised the matter away, consoling himself that there was likely never really cause to do a full two-way sync. That wasn’t the process. Not their purpose.

The hours ticked by, and it was soon approaching dinner time, the busiest time of the day. The back and forth of service, of etiquette and the highest standards. Present but not seen in the execution of their intent. He would be alone for some time still, so lay down on the bed, his eyes heavy and the burden of worry a knot in his stomach.

What seemed like only moments later he awoke to the ping of a sync.

“Bali?” said New Wilson standing over him where he lay on the bed. “Really? Nice enough I guess. Pictures certainly looked nice.”

Wilson rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “Where’ve you been? What’s going on? You’ve been to Bali?” he asked.

“Working. I have no idea. And no, you looked at travel brochures, right? “

Wilson bristled. So the sync was one way. “Thanks for the food, “ he said, swinging his legs out of bed and slipping his feet into his slippers. He watched as the man with his face, his life, eyed them and then looked back to him. “What? Something wrong?” he snapped.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No, no I don’t. I don’t want a drink, I want to know what’s going on.”

He watched as two glasses were filled, a full moon creeping from behind thick clouds and illuminating the room as it flooded the room. Wilson sighed, taking the glass. Once more he drank, the warmth filling him. I’m leaving tomorrow.” He said. Both men seemed as surprised as each other to hear the words spill from his lips.

“You can’t.”

“And exactly why can’t I?” Wilson replied. He didn’t really know where he would go or what he would do. He didn’t really know much beyond the confines of the house.

“Because that isn’t what we do. We serve. We wait. We don’t leave.”

Wilson stood suddenly and threw the glass across the room, it hit the wall and shattered. “Bali, I could go to Bali,” he shouted. “I can go anywhere. They’re not coming for me, they’ve forgotten. Something went wrong. I don’t know, I don’t care.”

“How are you going to get to Bali?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, are you not listening?” Wilson’s face was red, pain shot up his leg. He took a deep breath, his eyes glancing to the open cupboard, the rows of clothes inside.

Wilson watched as the man in front of him stammered “’t. You just can’t.”

“I fucking can,“ Wilson snapped. Maybe they weren’t as identical as he had thought. They shared so much but perhaps there was a difference, something beyond memories and dna. Something that couldn’t be simply transferred and that made him far more than service and routine and duty. “get out of the way,” he said pushing past his new self. He heard a glass fall to the floor as he headed towards the open cupboard.

“No, wait,“ came a shout, and Wilson felt a hand on his arm. “Wait. They will come.”

Wilson spun around, an arm swinging and connecting the other man across the face. “I’m not waiting, I don’t want to go.” He shouted, watching a trickle of blood as it ran from the mans lip. They weren’t the same, he thought. He wasn’t him. “Don’t try stop me.”

Before the outstretched arm connected with him a second time Wilson lashed out, striking him once more. Pain shot up his leg and into his back and he grunted as a rage filled him and he threw himself past the outstretched arm and both men fell to the floor in a tangle. A trailing leg knocked over the small table where a lamp sat burning, the room plunged into darkness with only the moonlight streaming in as they rolled across the floor, arms flailing, clenched fists flying and the heavy grunts broken by the sounds of knuckle on bone.

As clouds passed over the moon once more, the room was plunged into darkness and Wilson felt fingers around his throat, nails digging into his flesh, and the air being ripped from his lungs as he felt a blow to his stomach. A guttural roar spilled from him as he flailed, thrashing against the weight of the man who was now on top of him.

“You can’t go, “ he said, fingers tightening and pushing Wilson’s head against the floor. “You have to wait”. Wilson didn’t hear anymore after a bloodied fist connected squarely with something hard in the dark, there was a stifled groan and a hiss of escaping breath followed by a thud. And then there was silence.

Steam curled from the cup in the bright morning light that streamed through the tall breakfast room windows. Sugar cubes plinked as they were dropped into the tea, and there was a tinkle of silver spoon on best china saucers.

A man with dark hair and sharp features took the offered cup and smiled.

“Thank you,” he said, placing it on the table next to his unfolded newspaper.

“Will that be all Sir?”

“Yes, thank you Wilson,” the man said taking up the spoon and stirring the tea slowly. “That’s all.”

“Very good sir,” said the man, turning to leave the room. He stifled a wince. “Very good.”

So you have cancer. Now what?

Food glorious food

So, turns out I have prostate cancer. I wrote about it first here…

It’s not like it’s gonna take me out anytime soon and I am continuing with frequent check ups and mri scans and all of that sort of nonsense just to make sure it’s not getting any worse. So not a great deal to worry about.

I did though take the opportunity to review my working hours at work and dropped a few and now I only work 4 days a week Tuesday to Friday.

Not wanting to be overly dramatic, it did occur to me that perhaps I might use this as an opportunity to rethink things a little bit and just try and give myself a little bit more time in the day. Again it’s not because of worries of any sort, it’s simply because I thought it’ll be rather nice to only work 4 day’s week. I’ve not had an epiphany or some such.

I did do it previously but they were particularly long days I didn’t really have the energy of the inclination to be working for 9 hours A-day. So now I only work 8 hours A-day 4 days a week which is fabulous and I have every Monday off. It’s only an hour difference but that hour does make it quite difficult to squeeze all of the working time into the day when I don’t want to start before 8 and I don’t want to work after 5. Makes me seem a bit picky doesn’t it…

Anyway to get to my point what I’ve actually been enjoying doing is bulk cooking for a couple of hours on a Monday morning so that I don’t have to do a great deal of cooking for the rest of the week. I know I need to eat healthier and stay fit and well as I can so this all seemed to fit nicely together.

Just means I don’t have to spend as much time during the week preparing food and after work I can take the dog out for a walk after I’ve thrown something in the oven and Hey presto all sorted.

I realised I could have done this before and there was absolutely nothing stopping me I guess it just felt like I was taking some sort of actions to improve things in terms of both preparing better food as well as not being quite so busy.

So each week I whip up a quick menu and pop to get whatever I need. I then usually have to pop back to get the things I didn’t remember. I then head into an absolute frenzy of cooking and pot washing and Try to do everything in about 2 hours. I was a bit worried about how long you can leave food in the fridge I’m kind of wondered whether I was going to give everybody diarrhoea so I tend to put Tuesday and Wednesday is food in the Friday and Saturday goes into the freezer. This week we had burgers on Monday and then Tuesday is fish pie, Wednesday is a Thai green curry, Thursday is a vegetable filled cottage pie, Friday it’s a beef Madras curry, There is a vegetable pasta thrown in there as wellAnd if I remember correctly some sort of chicken chasser.

I think I need to work a little more vegetables in there but mostly I’m rather enjoying it.

Not really sure why I’ve told you all that and if my writing seems a little odd it’s because I’m doing it through dictation While I’m lying on the couch with the dog.

Shorts – Kin – Part 1 of 2

It’s something, right?

Just stuff I am spewing out as I attempt to get into a routine of writing every day (or close at least).


Wilson shuffled to the door, soft slippers on hard wood floors and the ache in his right leg causing him to wince as he attempted to hurry as there was a knock for a second time. It was late. The master and lady were asleep, the rest of the staff long gone back to the city. That security had allowed someone through without calling was unusual, but not unheard of.

“Just a moment, “ he called out. His employers were in the far west wing so there was little worry that he would wake them. The lights in the long hall flicked on automatically as he approached the large set of heavy double doors. Through the glass inset into them that ran top to bottom, he could make out the shape of a man on the other side, standing quite still.

Pain shot once more up his leg, and he called out through gritted teeth that he was almost there.

“How may I…” he said as he pulled the door back, the words catching in his throat and falling silent in the cold night air that rushed inside.

“Good evening, “ said the man stood before him. “I am…”

“I know quite who you are, “ said Wilson, the colour drained from his cheeks and there was a tremor in his voice. “You’re me. That’s pretty plain to see. Is it time already?”

The man before him said nothing and smiled. They were identical in every way, indistinguishable and unmistakable. Save for their most recent memories, the last 12 hours at the most, there was nothing to separate them.

They looked each other up and down, somehow this all seemed matter of fact, as if they both expected it. Perhaps it was in their shared DNA and memories, but whatever it was it already had a sense of inevitability for Wilson.

“Im sorry, I haven’t synced since this morning,” Wilson said, pulling the door wider and motioning for him man to come inside. “Master had me somewhat busy preparing for the arrival of guests.”

The other Wilson acknowledged with a nod and stepped inside, noticing the limp as the door was closed behind him.

“It’s the leg, isn’t it. It’s been getting worse for months now and they said there was nothing that could be done.”

The visitor nodded, smiled politely, paused and then spoke. “Shall we return to your quarters? They will be along to pick you up for recycling once you’ve synced.”

Wilson said nothing, nodded, and headed back along the hall. The door clicked locked behind them and they made their way towards a set of wide stairs at the end of the hall. Instinctively, he started to explain that the dining room on the left was for major functions only, already consigned to the inevitable. He knew this was the way things were, he had been here before. Before he could finish he was cut short.

Wilson felt a hand on his shoulder and he stopped, turning around to face himself once more.

“I know, I have your memories, it’s ok. They are in good hands I promise.” His new self said to him. “I know this is scary, but you need not worry. It will be painless, and it is for the best.”

Wilson shrugged off the touch. “It’s just through here, “ he said holding open another door to the left of the staircase. “this is our…”

He paused, sighed, and both men entered the room. It was sparse and clean. Against one wall there was a single bed, with a small bedside table on one side. A thin cupboard stood to the other, one door open and identical sets of clothes were visible hanging neatly. On the other side of the room was a small table and two chairs, a dark wood bookshelf and a low cabinet with a decanter filled with a dark liquid and two glasses.  

“You pour while I sync,“ Wilson said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled a small flat object from the draw of the bedside table, about the size and thickness of a paperback, and placed his hand on it. There was a low hum for about thirty seconds, and then a high pitched ping that indicated that the sync had been successful.

Both men sat at the round table, drinks in hand.

“When will they fetch me?” Wilson asked.

“Within the hour.”

“And what happens then?”

“I really don’t know what happens to you, but I will be going to bed as I need to be up early to ensure everything is ready for breakfast.”

Wilson laughed and took a long drink from the glass.

“I am sorry,“ said the man. Wilson. Himself.

“No hard feelings at all,” said Wilson. “I guess I thought maybe they would keep me on because…well because they cared, you know.”

Both Wilsons nodded, and they both finished their drinks.

“Another?” Wilson said filling both glasses.

“I’m not sure that I should, I do need to be up in the morning.”

Wilson laughed, “Go on, just one more.” He was incorrigible when he drank, and it wasn’t like he was going to have a hangover the next morning. Or any morning ever after, for that matter.

“Drink up, “ he said, filling their glasses. He was barely hardened against the effects of what was a very good 2023 single Malt he had received from the master as a gift, and he did like to keep it for special occasions, but if not tonight, then when, he told himself.

Wilson looked at his watch as they drank and chatted. Perhaps it was the drink, but he quite liked himself. He was surprisingly eloquent and amiable after a few, and there was a genuine compassion and tenderness that he realised very few people had ever seen, if any.

“When did you start then?”

“You know when I started, “ Wilson replied. “Cast your mind back, it’s all in there. Last one had a nasty fall apparently. But as they say, good help is hard to find, right.”

Wilson raised his glass. “One more for the Road, “ he insisted and filled the glasses once more, spilling some of the malt onto the table. “When did you say they would be here for me?”

“Not long now, given you’ve sync’d they’ll be here any minute.”

“Then to our good health, “ said Wilson, his speech slurred. “Or to yours at least. May you last longer than I.”

“To service.” Said new Wilson downing his drink in one. Wilson was enjoying himself and wondered why he hadn’t done this more. Not with himself, of course. Just generally. Or at least he wondered why Wilson hadn’t done it more. Or something along those lines…

When the next morning came, Wilson opened his eyes, head thumping and mouth dry. He was alone in the room, in his bed. Sitting up he looked about and wondered whether the night before had been a dream. The headache and empty bottle on the table across the room told him it was not. Throwing back the blankets he swung his legs from the bed and slipped into his slippers which were conveniently where he would have left them had he not had far too much whisky.

Scanning his room he noticed his everyday shoes were missing. They should be next to the cupboard. Walking over he opened the doors and counted the hanging jackers, shirts and trousers. One set missing. He checked the wash basket but they weren’t in there. Someone must be wearing them.

Him. Them.

Hours passed, and Wilson pottered around the room. His leg still ached, and was getting worse each day. It was a large house, with endless corridors and stairs, and over time he had just started to break down. The cheaper models did, but they were easily replaced. He should have learned to hide it, he thought.

He straightened the bed, washed the glasses and threw the empty bottle in the waste. He lay down for a while to help ease his headache, and had just up and finished straightening the bed for a second time when the door to the room opened.

“Still here then?”

“Apparently so, yes. Thought they’d have been by now. Have they been in touch?”

“Really don’t know what happens now, “ Said new Wilson. “I suppose you wait.”

“You think?”

Wilson watched as a new bottle of malt was placed on the table.

“I…we…we don’t usually drink that much you know. Just so you know.”

“We don’t? Well it isn’t as good as the one we drank last night but there were plenty in the stores.”

“No,“ said Wilson, not believing that they both didn’t know full well that their ability to handle their alcohol did not match their ability to enjoy it. “Anyway, “ he continued, “doesn’t really matter does it. I’ll be gone soon so you can figure that out yourself.”

But that wasn’t the case at all. The morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon to evening and still he waited. The golden fingers of the late afternoon sun had receded into the darkness, and looking out of the window he gazed up at the stars in the cloudless sky. Far from the city lights they painted the blackness like a net of lights.

Later that evening when they were together in the room once more, drinks in hand, Wilson again asked about being collected and whether the master had been informed that he was still in the house. Apparently Masters didn’t get involved in such matters though, and it was best that the handovers were seamless to spare them the emotional distress of the transitions.

Wilson wondered why he didn’t know this and what else he might not know. He wondered whether this was new information that had not been shared in the sync or if he had simply forgotten. He had after all been here for many years. More than he could recall in fact.

“Well what do we do then? Just wait?” He asked.

“There is no protocol that I am aware of. We wait I believe. Unless you want to contact them yourself. Do you even know how?”

Wilson laughed and sipped his malt. “Hardly going to do that now am I.”

Part 2 Tomorrow…

Things I read in January

So there was one that I was reading for the 2nd time and a classic that I was reading for the 1st. A 3rd That I endured and a 4th Which I figure I ought to read given that I bought it.

Stephen King dishes out some wonderful writing advice as well as an intriguing tale of his journey to writing superstardom. I’ve read this a couple of times and I find it hugely inspirational And it really does deliver a simple message on the art of writing.

I’m not going to try and explain why To Kill a Mockingbird is so bloody good. I’m pretty certain generations of school children have analysed it to death.

What I will say is that it is an absolutely beautifully written piece of work. You really could learn so much by just reading and learning. How I have gone this long without reading it is pretty shameful to be honest…

The other 2 were just filler really but I enjoyed both to varying degrees for different reasons. None of which I can be arsed actually going into.

As you can see I’m not really doing book reviews I’m just sharing my initial thoughts on what I’ve enjoyed reading this month.

What have you been reading?

Fetish Haiku – Liquidophilia


Just a reminder that these were once a thing. Kind of a re blog..


I was prompted by one of my regular readers to perhaps explore the world of fetish in haiku form. Well it was something like that, I don’t recall exactly but before you know it I am googling the most astonishing things and writing small Japanese poems about them. I know they’re not strictly haiku – they do though have the haiku structure.

Some of stuff I have heard of but a lot of it took me somewhat by surprise. I am rather concerned over the search history on my phone because it is pure filth. All in the name of research mind.

Anyway, I shall leave it up to you to google the title below if you dare.


You filthy bugger

get them out my bloody pint

wet dripping bollocks

Shorts – Full Force

It’s something, right?

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.

Darnel threw his bag down onto the floor and slumped into his chair, the cap of his beer sliding between his fingers and onto the floor.

“Is that you?” came an excited voice from upstairs. “I will be down in a minute I’m just getting ready.”

“I wouldn’t bother” he replied taking a long drink and wiping his mouth.

“What do you mean” came the reply. “Aren’t we going to the cantina? What happened?”

“I got busted down to private. Lost my stripes. I really don’t feel like it. Some of the lads will be out and I really do not want to see them.”

Zara popped her head around the corner and peered down the staircase into the living room.

“Honey what happened? Tell me.”

Darnel sighed deeply and finished the beer before opening a second.

“I don’t know babe, I really don’t” he replied. “I screwed up. I think.”

She hurried down the stairs, sat on his lap and kissed his forehead.

“Tell me. Please. What happened.”

He place the bottle on the table and held her hand.

“We were on patrol and I missed a mark. Went clean past me but I swear honey, I am certain that they weren’t the droids we were looking for…”