holding hands

She’d never been natural at developing connections. Other people seemed to find it so easy. She sometimes imagined them as having lots of different coloured strings attached to their bodies, representing the things about themselves that other people would find attractive or interesting. All they had to do was take the end of one of these strings and offer it to a passing stranger, and the stranger seemed willing to take it and become a friend. It didn’t seem to matter what it was – a mutual interest in showing Persians, the perfect recipe for asparagus soufflé, even a common fascination with the weather over the next few days. She saw it happening all around her, half of her scoffing at the inanity of the exchanges, and the other half a tiny bit jealous.

Fiona Robyn
The Letters

never be lonely again

June 9, 2018

So many uses

From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.

Betty Smith
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

15th July

Lunch and drinks with close friends yesterday afternoon. Developed into a wonderful session (as is usual) that took us through to early evening –

Strange dreams of schooldays last night. And of a girl who smelled of pink bubble gum and Johnson’s baby powder. How delicate we both were. Our touches hot with joy and desire. My fingertips wet with the dew of her dawn –

Now, flying inside my own body. How our bodies do betray us: such terrible traitors they are! There is rain in the window, look. She lies on the bed curled with cushions and sipping tea from a bone-china cup. Her sex is so like a hothouse rose. I have been imprisoned by her hands for so many years –

And it’s time to wake – but where is reality?

A friend in need…

June 25, 2015


Drinking blood…

March 8, 2015


I’m surrounded…

March 6, 2015


If I didn’t drink…

December 23, 2014



July 10, 2014




Cathy's latest 074

Cathy's latest 114


I don’t wanna be your friend
I don’t want niceness
I don’t wanna be your friend
I don’t want politeness
I don’t want to go back
To a life that’s dull
A life that’s empty
And vice less
I don’t wanna be your friend
I can’t just turn off my feelings
I can’t let go of history
And all my secret yearnings

I don’t wanna be your friend
I don’t want texts
Saying “ Hi hw ws Ur dy? ”
I want sleazy phone sex
A list of deliciously filthy
Things you want to do with me
And when we do meet up I want us do them all
I don’t want a peck on the cheek
And polite hugging
I want hungry tongues
And inappropriate touching
I want us not to care
Where we are and who’s watching
I want to disgust the assistants
When we go out shopping
I want your hand on my groin
While your Mum serves up food
I want oral sex when she nips to the shops
We were always in the mood
I want lust and longing
That never ends
I want my old lover back
I don’t wanna be your friend

I want it to be obvious to everyone
That we’re a pair

I want us to go back to doing everything together
I don’t want to ride the bus
To my house all alone
I want to embarrass a taxi driver
As he chauffeurs us home
I want us getting undressed
Before we even reach the door
I want sweaty humping
Right there on the floor
I want long slow
Lasting lovemaking
I want hectic fucking
Till the walls are quaking
I don’t want the “honeymoon” period
Ever to end
I want us to go on forever
I don’t wanna be your friend

I want to wake naked and shivering
In the wee small hours
Being careful not to wake you
As I claw back the covers
Drifting off to sleep listening to
Calm even breathing
Lingering too long over goodbyes
When it comes to leaving
I wanna bask in the warmth
Of what it is to be near you
Hugging and snuggling
Missing not being with you
It’s friendship that turns into Love
Not the opposite
You turn me on and I can’t turn off
No matter how much I might try it
I’ve got enough I don’t need anymore
I hate this emotional dead end
I’ve room in my life for a lover
But I can’t just go on being your friend

(Paul Rafferty)