Shades of Grey
By Steve Urwin


Give me slow jazz...

Give me slow jazz, some black and white movie and a dark roast coffee. Make it strong enough so the spoon stands to attention with a little milk and three sugars. Put Tom Waits on a street corner with a Marlboro hanging from a frozen lip; strike a match on the five o'clock shadow, light up and inhale.

Give me slow jazz and a beautiful girl in an empty room save the mattress showered with rose petals, a box of chocolates by the window and a book of lies with an ashtray on top. Give us an hour or two free from guilt and further obligation. Let the tongue slide slowly down.

Give me slow jazz and her sister. Both will be beautiful if both will be mine. And as we writhe in bliss the burning steam will rise and mix with the room's sweet scent, inducing the most perfect delirium. Give me all of this. Give me slow jazz in a dream that lasts for all time.



28th October

Distressed surroundings. The desk directly in front of the gaping hole in the wall where the gas fire used to be. Wallpaper scraped away to reveal graffiti from decades ago. Too tired to finish. I feel an abundance of creeping vines breaking through the pores of my skin. They attach themselves to every surface around me. Every trivial little area of existence. Sucked up to surface-level mundanity. The room is making me feel quite ill.



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