Welcome to NSFW two.
This issue is bulging with glory. Alongside the launch of NSFW food we've got illustrations, words and photography.
We hope you enjoy it.
What I've Learnt From Googleholes/Dan's Tragic Trivia (ALT TITLE)
When you look up Tesco Opening Times and end up finding more about Ross Kemp's love life.
The modern attention span is steadily dwindling. In the space of reading that sentence you've already loaded up another tab on twenty ways to not die alone (in your twenties). I can't blame you, what should occupy ten minutes of finding somewhere for dinner soon becomes red eyes staring at a vlog you hate watching, then suddenly you hear the morning birds mocking your IRL existence. A Googlehole is the best way to describe the downward spiral of useless trivia that we're drawn to and ultimately can't ever use in any sane work/pub/tongue to tongue situation.
In spite of that I thought I might show off what I've learnt in an effort to have a viral colonic of sub-par bar talk:
No money + lots of time = unlimited potential for style genius.
Fashion can often be the necessity of limited options coupled with the invention of a bored imagination. The homeless Ukrainian Slavik knows this best by not having the extortionate amount of money (or outside knowledge) to keep up with trends he instead decided that he'd craft his own style. Made up of clothes he finds on the street, he breaks the ground rules of clashing colours/materials and is better off not placing himself into any box. Photographer Yurko Dyachyshyn befriended Slavik and would shoot his various outfits throughout the day (he often had two outfit changes a day). Slavik has now gone a wandering according to Yurko; we can't wait for his look next season.
Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?
I always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it.
Her heart was trying to come out.
Fragilely bound to the house
Look we're all concerned with human rights
Red and raw from weeping
Oh, he's burning me! I'm burning
I don't believe he saw a thing.
I don't see how you can live there all alone
Tiny claws scratching at the edge of a galaxy
Slaps at the light switch
Spurts sickening over the golden girl
Your abode is a nest of vipers
In the broiling noon sun, like lava over her
Throw me down
Legs apart on the front porch
His eyes leaked with excitement
Your love belongs to me
Brow wet with perspiration
Foul mouthed, grim-covered
Brain twists feverishly
Wrenching of breath, eyes rolling upwards
Grimaces. Gasps. Curses.
Tell me baby what is it? What's wrong?
Run upstairs and get dressed, we'll go for some pizza
I let it blow quietly away
Everything's terrible anyhow
Outside it begins to rain again
Let us warm the body
Warm centre of the world
We've got rats in the attic
Silent lips, nervous despair
Willie turns back to the bacon
Grunting like a pig
Daddy? This is me.
Just a little munchie
Beating his way along
Spun out in his brain
Yellowish gobs of mucus oozes down the cheek
I just remembered today's my birthday
There's my pearl, my sweet honey piglet. Cigarette?
Her face is puffy
Spasms of bleak dust drifted endlessly
She was looking with blind eyes through smoke
If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home
Milk of wonder
Fall despairingly into deep heat
Forget the heat
Foolish ideas in her head
Tricks in her throat
Dead dreams fought through a sticky bob of red hair
Wet her lips
There seems to be an alien pubic hair in my gin
Fire in the room
There's trouble with the pipes
Her throat full of aching beauty
What makes you think you're so fucking superior?
It was the hour of profound human change
You bloody damned butchering Nazi pig!
Son of a bitch bastard!
She spits in his face
A terrible, terrible mistake
She drove on toward death
You're an asshole
This fucking world into which people are brought
Mingled thick blood with dust
Urine sample under microscope
You've recently broken up with a boyfriend right?
Disturbance in the brain
The beautiful little fool was dead a couple of days before they found her
Blown about the world
Drift on forever seeking
Wandering hungrily with a desolate cry from age to age
Do they miss me?
Ghost where she had drawn her breath
Her face a shadow behind the lace veil
The whole fucking world still waiting for the sun to rise
My notion of heaven is a solid white nightclub with me centre stage for all the rest of eternity
Help her! Help her! Oh somebody