 TRUTH BEFORE BREAKFAST I can feel his eyes on me, but I do my best to ignore the irritation and concentrate on the story. However, it’s not working. A wall prevents me from entering the world and I can’t hear the characters running around in my mind. The cold seat against my bare legs further distracts and I glance at the bed, locking eyes with Saul. “Can’t write?” he asks. I don’t think he is trying to anger me. His concern seems genuine, but I just don’t care right now. “Don’t.” I’m not in the mood. “Why can’t you talk to me about your writing? We share a bed…” he starts, but I don’t let him finish. “I’m writing a letter to Ray if you must know.” His eyebrows lift and a low chuckle escapes his lips, sending a ripple of heat into my cheeks. “Writing letters to imaginary husbands?” Putting my pen on the desk, I roll the seat towards the bed and crash into his leg hanging over the side. “Ow,” he screeches. “Imaginary?” “Ella, I’m tired of walking on eggshells. I never know when it’s story and when it’s real life. Answer me for once: when is the last time you saw Ray? No story, no lies.” Closing my eyes, I trace in my memory for a picture of him, waiting as years fall away in my mind. I can see him standing outside the convenience store waving goodbye to me the night before my 13th birthday. “The day I killed my father.” I hope he understands this explanation will be the totality of what I give him. Pushing the chair to the desk, I take the pen in hand once again. I read the short beginning out loud to myself, almost trying to will Saul’s presence out of the room. “You haven’t seen him since you were 13?” he asks. “I will not explain basic math, Saul.” Laughing, he sits upright on the bed and pushes his big gorilla feet into slippers. I grind my teeth in expectation of needless drama. “What I give…” he says before stopping to consider his words. “…you can’t get from an imaginary husband.” “Is that a fact?” I say. Crossing my legs, I lean on my elbow and wait for him to continue. “I give you what you need.” I fight to suppress a yawn. Men always think this way. Yes, boys, all I dream of is getting rapey rough fucked all day. I don’t want orgasms. “Need? Come back to me when you learn to use your fingers and tongue properly.” That wipes the smile off his face. It’s my turn to laugh. Men never want to hear the real truth. “Yes, I have to finger-fuck myself thinking about an imaginary husband because you’re such an inadequate lover. Now get out of my room before I slice your throat.” To my surprise he rises in an instant and walks from the room without even grabbing his clothes, striding down the hallway naked. In anger I grab the remote and turn on music. I feel the need to play a different song. I’m just a girl. Take a good look at me Just your typical prototype When will all these men understand that what I want most has nothing to do with fucking. I want to watch you die. When I close my eyes and let my mind wander, I imagine your blood soaking the bed as I laugh and laugh in the last moments of your life. But you keep thinking about fucking, poor little animal. That’s all your good for anyway. GET A SIGNED COPY OF |
 |  |
PURCHASE BOOK OF BIRDS
PURCHASE BLOOD CHILL
REVIEW by Jason Denness
CRUMBLING UTOPIAN PIPEDREAM
What da cover says: Crumbling Utopian Pipedream is a book of poems born of the streets. It unflinchingly celebrates gritty realism while detailing some of life’s hard won battles, and continually urges the reader to face the obstacles life puts in our way, and to realize that we have the strength to overcome any and all hardships.
What I says: I was very impressed by this collection of poetry, the opening poems felt like this was a confession of sorts, violence, drugs and drink were the main topics, gradually things got bleaker from there. After a while I realised this wasn’t a confession, Wozniak is telling the reader what life is like for many people, and telling those sufferers that you can overcome these things, it will be tough but all these trials will only make you stronger. The final poem “My Brain off Drugs” felt incredibly honest and finished off the collection perfectly.
Other high points here were a possible poem for Brexit, “So Many Choices, So Little Time” calls for people to rise up from this catastrophe and create your own destiny. One of the best was “Crumbling Utopian Pipedream” the lines are short, so few words are used but somehow Wozniak manages to capture the readers imagination and you can instantly see what he is writing about. If you ever wandered what a poem would be like if it was written as society is ending then Crumbling Utopian Pipedream would be it.
Wozniak has some very clever titles and my favourite poem has one of the best, “Depends on Which Side of the Flames You’re On”, that poem is so good, a contender for my favourite poem of 2019. You should grab a copy of this book even if it’s just for that one poem.
What I says: I was very impressed by this collection of poetry, the opening poems felt like this was a confession of sorts, violence, drugs and drink were the main topics, gradually things got bleaker from there. After a while I realised this wasn’t a confession, Wozniak is telling the reader what life is like for many people, and telling those sufferers that you can overcome these things, it will be tough but all these trials will only make you stronger. The final poem “My Brain off Drugs” felt incredibly honest and finished off the collection perfectly.
Other high points here were a possible poem for Brexit, “So Many Choices, So Little Time” calls for people to rise up from this catastrophe and create your own destiny. One of the best was “Crumbling Utopian Pipedream” the lines are short, so few words are used but somehow Wozniak manages to capture the readers imagination and you can instantly see what he is writing about. If you ever wandered what a poem would be like if it was written as society is ending then Crumbling Utopian Pipedream would be it.
Wozniak has some very clever titles and my favourite poem has one of the best, “Depends on Which Side of the Flames You’re On”, that poem is so good, a contender for my favourite poem of 2019. You should grab a copy of this book even if it’s just for that one poem.
PURCHASE CRUMBLING UTOPIAN PIPEDREAM
RSS Feed
Archives
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
November 2017
October 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016