Send Nudes

Anyone up for a laugh?

Anyone up for a cheeky Nandos?

A mercurial Wimpy?

An insolent KFC?

Anyone up for wearing crotchless squirrel suits and running through Centre Parcs?

Anyone up for getting apoplectic about the poor purchasing choices made by a contestant on a competitive antiques show?

It’s clearly a reproduction Janet, you monster.

Anyone up for reading me poetry over the phone?

Head on pillow?

Flex twirled though fingers?

Anyone up for pretending that landlines and poetry aren’t obsolete?

Anyone up for dropping acid at Mecca Bingo?

Anyone up for purifying themselves in the waters of lake Minetonka?

Anyone up for reciprocating a glance?

Just for a second?

Like we both know that gravity hurts?

Anyone up for holding me?

Holding my hand and standing on the edge?

Whitening knuckles,

heart in mouth,

but fuck it,

because love,

because living has a fucking monopoly.

Death barely steals a second.

Anyone up for pressing my head into their chest and saying nothing at all?

Anyone up for connecting through the invisible psychic tendrils that are woven through all our atoms?

Through all atoms.

Like we’re one shimmering mess.

Born of the same cosmic flotsam.

Anyone up for that?

Anyone up?


Find me on Tinder


Send nudes.




Byron Vincent