by M.R. Wallis

He would buy a dayrider every day, never a weekrider, always just £3.50. Clamber on the bus and sit at the top to feel like a giant. He had this bag of cans that rattled by him; he always sat at the window, looking out. Whenever I saw him, he'd be drinking, be it eight-am or midday, or nighttime, always glugging down cans of cheap lager. In the morning he'd be happy, jolly; afternoon, upset; evening, unsure of where he was; he rode all day. Muttered to a photograph of a woman he held with him, behind cracked glass and an ageing frame.


M.R. Wallis is the founder and creator of somethingeveryday. He endeavors to write new poetry or prose and upload it every day in order to re-engage people with art on a daily basis. He's twenty and starts to earn his MA in Creative Writing at Manchester University in September.