That which is broken now sits bent in my jacket pocket squeezed into a mush of feeling and paper bits. Spilt blue ink turns the river green the river of your belonging across my body spread vaguely thin where shall you go with this crackling stream? where shall you rest your marauding gleam? These pebbles … More That which is broken
Notice them when they are not paying attention they rejoice amongst themselves forgetting you ever existed for a while, you move around as a ghost a shadow amongst the people who proclaim their love for you yet they never notice when you cry blood and tears yet they never notice when you smile an empty … More Notice the blood and tears
The hurt ones don’t say much don’t do much either cry or smile or laugh or live just float in an endless salt estuary of indifference flanked by their own monsters. Is there an escape? May be. but do they know it? Probably not. The hurt ones, hold on!
On this day, at the end of another October cold winds are going to start blowing many will carve pumpkins many will wonder what’s Halloween the ghosts and the ghouls shall get confused which way to head the West or the East a new home, perhaps? But there is already too many of West’s more … More Halloween
There is one pothole every Friday away that a mid level tech geek is happy to stray into, for fear of cha-cha -ing with his third floor neighbour over his late night strolls over to Mrs. Verma’s cottage and slipping, rather quietly so out of his shoes and into an arm as slender as Mrs. … More Rimbaud died and we are all alive