Speak, Love

When we dream, we dream of love

When we dream, we dream of love

I speak words,

often of meanings that betray the immediacy of their intent

often of times when my present circumstance cannot conceive

often of days and moments not lived

often of values not formed.

I speak words,

words to inspire and enlighten

words to direct and command

words to coerce and negotiate

words to save and transform

I speak words,

to you as the tips of my fingers carve a path along the curves of your neck

to you as the bumps on your arms rise in anticipation of an unknown duty

to you as your heartbeat evolves in rhythm with mine

to you as your face is filled with mine.

I speak words,

words like i love you.

Of Idiots and Sentimental Fanatics: Introduction

Go home and listen to Nina Simone

Go home and listen to Nina Simone

I am Nigel.

I live a complicated life. It is grouped according to specific classifications and codes to guide my decision making. I will be a very miserable old man if i end up with alzheimer’s. However, i love life and live it fully; often a little over the top. Like the time i decided it was a good idea to have my pictures taken while i sat naked in the tub after a Playstation gaming marathon.

I get worried for my children when i do these things.

I have decided to share my story with you because quite frankly i need to tell someone. I need to spill it all. I have been a terrible person to some and a complete sweetheart to others. However it is the lives of the people in mine that will intrigue you.

They have the most intriguing stories.

Some are complete idiots. Like, IDIOTIC, in the proper and actual sense of the word. Some of absolute sweethearts. Others are bugs that must be squashed for eternity and have their body’s cut up in pieces and spread across the world.

Sorry about that. I hate those people.

I have siblings. I struggle to understand them. Heck i am still trying to understand myself so don’t judge. There is a younger brother by name Kelvin and an older sister called Trisha. I think Kelvin is gay but i have no evidence. My parents will freak out if he comes out. My sister is a terrorist. Not like the suicide ones though. She is hell on earth in the sibling sort of way. You know those ones right.

I am sure you have one of your own.

My parents are truly conservative. They are the church-every-Sunday-morning, midweek-service, no smoking or sex or kissing or anything else before marriage- kind. I have caught them having sex before though but then again, they are married so fair game. We seldom have anything to talk about and yet we seem to find things to say to each other.

It gets weird… a lot.

I have only a few friends. Even they, wonder what the heck is wrong with me a lot of the time. They say i am the life of the party. I don’t see it. I mean, what is the point of going to a party and standing in the shadows with a drink in hand. Are you a shadow? And please don’t give me that different people have different personalities nonsense. That is just rubbish. IT IS A PARTY! If you do not grasp the fundamental concept of what that event is all about, you are not supposed to be there.

Go home, take a shower, and listen to Nina Simone.

I have no idea what i want to do with my life. I initially wanted to be a musician. I could sing. I realised soon enough that what i did was not singing. Then came the lawyer phase. If that is what i wanted to do with my life, everything i did was anti that dream. I soon realised that sticking with computers was my only route. I love the damn things and they seem easy enough to do so why the heck not.

I work in a computer shop with a fatso for a boss. His name is Mike.

I have been in several relationships. When i say several, i mean six (i think). They have all ended the same way.

“Grow up”.

That is what i am doing now.

Whirlwinds of Emotion

The innocence of a suckling child

The emotional innocence of a suckling child

There is a joy beyond the smile

A happiness beyond the cheer

A peace beyond the silence

A pleasure beyond the moan

Unexplained, yet understood

Elusive, yet ever present.

It swells from a gulf of deep-seated denial

Erupts from a place deeper than your core

Bursts through a barrier of suppressed sentiment

It consumes you.

Wholly, Completely, Fully.

Your fingers tremble as it surges through you

Your thoughts lose all sense of composure

Your head swims in an ocean of delirium

Your lips part way for the soundless cry of anguish

You are caught;

caught in a whirlwind of emotion.


Thye devil is in the detail

Thye devil is in the detail

They consume the dimly lit corners of your life;

hoods up.

Stares as cold as icicles, glares that pierce.

You shudder as you walk past

They sneer at you.

You wonder and ponder, often concluding

You question yourself, your being, your person

Why do they stare?

Why does it linger?

Why do they not look away?

They intimidate you,

confine you to a space; escape is impractical

You are intimidated.

You acquaint yourself with the symmetry of the paved road


You seek acceptance in its presence

You seek liberation.



You miss a step, almost falling.

They shared a joke, you didn’t get it.

They stand huddled in a group

your every move brings them closer

You yearn for the sight of the pavement

You yearn to be free

The chill from the steel of the lamppost fills your senses


A glance over your shoulder you will not risk

Your sanity depends on it.