February – month of dull drab hellish urban decay:
February is a gift from the gods of depression and depravity, it reeks in its full rain fuelled entirety of ill education and unemployment; it is the month in which those who do not wish to exit are flung full force into the banal horror of their own pointless manifestation on our beautiful, circulating space rock of natural terrorism and political disasters.
…February is wonderful, it signals the low point in life at which things have to improve; the only other option being to graciously plummet into a sea of greyish concrete chaos: comparably more enjoyable than sitting around to see the marvellous month of feb play out to its grim conclusion.
I enjoy my low points as much as the next person but often there seems to be some kind of masochistic satisfaction to be taken from drawing, squeezing and plucking out every last drop of misery from an already bad situation; rather akin to tweezing out a bee sting or splinter over a period of several millennia before sticking your hand back into the hive for a handful of honey and exquisite acupuncture.
February consists of cantankerous, lonely and hedonistic endeavours toward blotting out the otherwise unsightly spectacle of one’s own inner psyche; comprises of generic meaningless music to fill the silent, scratching thought processes that must be kept under tight reign at all costs lest they shed some acidic neon illumination on the murky piss filled multi storey car parks of the mind.
Ghettoised dark alleys –brown walled flake lanes filled with empty blood cans flitter across the visual membranes. They flash in and out as stabbing murals, further reaching toward the inner recesses of unwanted knowledge…this is February; land of the lost, found and discarded, needed for re use and regurgitation without closure of any kind.
It is a sickly void: waiting…hoping, resting and infected. Feb feeds off influenza, depression, dieting and cosmetic surgery. These are its own morsels of inspiration; they number among the infinite empty homes and space ways of British society, while slowly amalgamating as a digestive delight to feed the five billion soulless fiends of commerce.
February has a sharp tangy mental taste vaguely reminiscent of a feverish dream or heroin withdrawal. It has a high pitched synesthegic flavour which sounds like worms burrowing through crushed glass. Frayed fingernails raking along sandpaper permeate this auditory hallucination of a month while the sickly smell of booze house urinary tablets compliment its pungent fragrance as vomiting does a hangover.
This month behaves not unlike a rotting ship; sailing a sharp cutting path through the annals of misery. The vessel is helmed by an insane concierge; drunk on service industry power and pain. Its crew are formed from upright, self aware faeces who live out their odorous existence from a position of blissful mass belligerence…oh to join and harmoniously suffer. In the brig lie those foolish enough to pierce their noble heads through the viscous rim of the sea. Only they have punctured its slick waves and found lapping mountains of ant hill turmoil seething on the surface. In return For their efforts, a light yet corrosive nibbling has occurred, leaving frayed nerve endings and a few tenuous strands of comprehension flapping idly in the toxic wind.
It is they who shall carry forth the memory of this glorious month, they who shall sow its grimy seeds into the fields of March.
February has left its mark; torn, jagged and with a slight residue of misplaced optimism seeping from round the edges.
Without February there would be no cause for celebration, for life would remain forever locked in a cycle of mediocre ineptitude without ever dipping below the waves for an albeit brief bite of hell.
We love February. February does not discriminate but treats us instead with the same amount of shit filled disgust and contemptuous sadism. February reminds us that there is death after life and the sooner we get there the less time we have to spend in its sweaty clutches.
But fear not, for the months were created to contain, not liberate, and god help us all should we escape…


-January