Spending every evening regulating my breathing, contemplating how my life came to be, pretentious shit that means nothing, but I kid myself I’m free.
I gotta give up the bottle before it gives up me, too many gaps in my memory, it makes me sick,
When I’m waking up wondering how I ended up outside a hospital holding a brick,
Wake up wondering how I ended up getting my kicks from getting dick every other weekend from a skinny hipster kid who I used to give a fuck about, now I’m fucking out.
I used to underestimate my ability to lie, but it’s become impossible to hide; I care more for keeping my ego well fed than I do for keeping my soul alive.
Like a comedown when I’m coming to my senses; I do what I want without worrying about the consequences, then when I have to deal with them I don’t, tell myself to stop but I won’t.
So is it any wonder I confuse love with lust? I surround myself with people I fake feelings for and friends I don’t trust.
People ask why I’m constantly so vexed, they say I need more money, friends or sex; I don’t, I need faith in humanity and a reality check.

Claustrophobia (Demo)

Wrote these lyrics a while ago and now they’re starting to take shape as a song, the guitarist is my friend Tom 🙂

Cigarettes and drunken nights aren’t exactly childhood dreams,
But maybe a glass slipper fairytale isn’t what I need.
Run your fingers through your hair telling me it can’t be you,
But baby, children of the gutter need a love story too.

Claustrophobia, my space invasion, I didn’t mean to get so close
I’ve come to terms with the realisation you’re the thing I always miss most
Oh-oh oh, lies and subtle hints get me no-oh-where from what I’ve seen
oh-oh oh, time to get away before I say-ay something I actually mean

The girl with the red curls is here. She sits cross-legged on the floor drumming her fingernails on her beer bottle. It’s empty but she doesn’t get up to get another. The boy next to her is engaging her in polite conversation, she nods and smiles every now and then but she keeps stealing glances at the sofa on her left. I notice because that’s where I’m looking too.
He wears an expression of nonchalance and only those who know him well would recognise this as well-disguised shyness. His eyes scan the room every now and then but never seem to focus fully. A girl with long brown hair is on his lap and his arm is wrapped noncommittally around her waist, I’ve heard him talk about this girl but never seen her in person before. I can instantly understand why he would be drawn to her; every now and then she throws back her head and laughs at some idle joke he makes, her dark hair cascading down her back and every male eye in the room is on her. Occasionally she runs her hands possessively through his hair and at one point she kisses him hard on the mouth, his eyes widen in surprise and his cheeks flush slightly but he doesn’t resist, and it’s at this point I leave the room, to go count the bathroom tiles or something less excruciating.
Upon returning I notice the girl with the brown hair has gone. He sits alone, head on his shoulder, his eyes downcast, chewing on his bottom lip and the space next to him is empty. I go to make my way over, knowing that all I need is to see that smile, just one smile and then that’ll hold me for the rest of the night, girls with waterfalls of dark hair be damned, and just as I’m about to take a step I feel a hand on my arm.
It’s her. The girl with the red curls. Her wide eyes lock with  mine and we stand in limbo, holding eachother’s gaze. She doesn’t say a word, but those two green pools seem to be screaming at me, almost pleading, and I know exactly what she’s trying to say: ‘please let me have this’.
And it’s like looking into a mirror.
Red curls and fuller lips aside I’m looking at myself. She has the same look on her face as I’ve seen before on mine a million times, it’s the look that’s worn out but alive somehow, so alive, it’s the look of someone who is desperately and hopelessly in love and it’s the look that’s only instigated by that boy over there on the sofa.
Her grip loosens slightly but her eyes are still silently begging, there’s a ferocity there, a fire I can sense and my eyes flicker from her to him and he’s looking this way and that’s when I see it. His eyes are alight. This is her. I stare back into her eyes and realise that I’m kidding myself if I think I have any chance here, and I’m desperate to run and not let her get to me, I’m desperate for that smile, but I can’t deny him this. So I look away from her to show that I concede.
In an instant she’s at his side, gazing adoringly at him just the way I do, with his arm about her shoulder but to him it’s only in friendship for now, he does that with me too, but this is different somehow, this is his soulmate, he just doesn’t realise it yet, but he will. Two people that shine so brightly belong together, and it’s obvious that they’re the only light in the room now. I finally get my smile as it splits across his face like the sun rising on the sea for the girl with the red curls.

You say the sweetest things in your sleep.
You use words in the wrong context all the time but I don’t like to correct you.
When you’re uncomfortable you hunch your shoulders and stare at your phone.
You make this noise when you’re sad that sounds like a hiccup, it’s weird but kind of endearing.
You over enunciate when you want to sound smart.
I can tell when you like someone because you sit there preening yourself like some kind of peacock.
Then you talk to me about them when it isn’t necessary and the conversation isn’t about them and I want to tell you to just shut the fuck up about them, just for once, but I sit there and listen and tell you what I think you want to hear.
You say you fell in love once and I wonder if you were a different person then, I wonder if you were even more breath taking when there was a glow in your eyes because of the fire in your heart.
But you say the sweetest things in your sleep.

She forces him out the door, and the two stand there in the cold night air. She’s fighting back tears of rage and frustration and spitting words at him under her breath, words she doesn’t mean, demanding an explanation for his behaviour. He stares at her for a moment, caught in a drunken stupor, before blurting out THOSE words, those words she’s been wanting to hear since day one but never thought would ever come out of his mouth, at least never in reference to her:

‘I’m in love with you.’

It wasn’t what she was expecting to hear and for a minute she is frozen as the words sink in.

‘Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that.’

‘I am!’

‘Don’t. Because I might believe you and then you can’t ever take that back.’

She can feel the lump in her throat rising, she’s desperate not to believe because this is probably just yet another one of his sick jokes and in a minute he’ll look at her and laugh, that fucking beautiful endearing scintillating laugh that she hated so much and she knows she couldn’t deal with it, because now her heart is racing faster than a bullet from a gun just from the slight slight hope and any minute now it’s going to be gone, but he’s looking at her and she can’t see any trace of a smile.

‘Do you want to believe it?’

She swallows and takes one last look into those eyes, knowing that if in a split second he breaks her heart like china on concrete this’ll be the last time she’ll see them because she’ll run, she’ll run and she won’t look back, and she takes a deep breath:


I ask why I’m constantly so vexed, they say I need more money, friends or sex; I don’t, I need faith in humanity and a reality check.

Keep on talking because I think I hear the stars moving every time you open your lips.
Do they look at us and think we’re the beautiful ones?
Because I know I’ve always thought you were a beautiful one.
But now we’re drunk and you’re shining so bright that all I can see
Is an untucked shirt-hem and vodka stained eyes as I carry you home under amaranthine sky.

(Some of these lyrics are olllllddddd aha. But I kind of have a guitar thing for this and it sounds quite pretty)

I’m sat in the driver’s seat on a Saturday night.
It’s cold because you’re next to me with your window rolled down smoking a cigarette, the whole car smells of tobacco now but I won’t tell you to stop because I know it’s your vice,
and I know it’s probably the only thing keeping you together right now. I’ve been known to have a cigarette myself occasionally when you’re not around; the smell reminds me of you, and the taste does too.
I’m going to drive until I get us out of here. I don’t know where to go and I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I do know I’m not gonna let them get you, not again.
Streetlights and neon road signs blaze past us, lit billboards advertising mundane things, fast food restaurants and reality tv shows, and it’s so surreal that the normal world is rushing past us, the normal world that we’re leaving behind.
You finally roll your window up and I hear you shivering in your seat. You haven’t spoken for the last 20 minutes because the last time you did I told you to shut up. I can tell you’re frightened so I reach out and put my hand on your lap in an attempt to comfort you. I wish I could think of something to say to reassure you, but the word’s won’t come, I can’t think of them, all I can think about is driving as far away and as fast as possible, anything to keep you out of harm’s way, because I won’t lose you, not again.
You put your hand in mine and I gently squeeze your fingers, and that’s when I feel your flesh disintegrating, getting softer and softer until your hand is no longer there, I turn wildly around to face you and reach to grab your other hand, but that’s disappearing too, every part of you I touch slips through my fingers like sand, I scream and try to pull you back but there’s nothing I can do, you’re melting away, and that’s when I realise
you’re not here, and sure you’re only 50 miles away but that’s ever such a lot and I can’t drive and the cold that I’m feeling isn’t coming through a car window but from the wind whipping all around me

I’m standing staring through the wooden slats at my feet to the sea beneath me, the luminous letters ‘BRIGHTON PIER’ above my head gleaming as the sun sets, and the smell of salt water and donuts and things that usually smell of happiness to me but all I can think about is how I never got to bring you here.
And I wish I was beautiful enough for you,
and I wish that you realised that she doesn’t deserve you
she never did
and that I would be all yours if you’d only agree to be all mine
but I know that’s never going to happen and I’ll never get to see you bathed in sunset laughing as the waves break around us
and I’ll never get to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you are silhouetted under spinning lights and carnival music
and I’ll never get to make you happy because someone else will always make you happier
and I won’t ever be enough.
And I could skip pebbles here all night but it won’t change the fact that you’re alone in your bedroom drinking wine out of the bottle and I’m not even on your mind, and it won’t bring you back to sit next to me.