, , , , , , , , , , ,

A second

seems to last an age

in this dead space.

An hour

never seems to come.

I’ve created my own


and all time slows.


Day breaks, light glares,

rain splashes, winds tear,

night surrounds.


The colour of my life

feels grey,

and this feeling is lost on me.

I am only sunken,

trying to make sense of it.

The clocks hands still


but I am rooted in place.

Different light


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

If you find yourself

staring across water

at a sunrise or sunset

remember how you got there,

no matter your reason

you’re there.


And if the sun

casts a shine on the water

that you haven’t seen before,

be thankful you saw it now.

It will look different tomorrow

under different eyes or

different light.


You will always be different

to your yesterday,

to the past you want to shake.


As you gaze across the water


the price of the journey

will be nothing

if you never go.

It’s my party, I’ll die if I want to.


, , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was taken to the drink

at the onset of stifling loneliness,

left to stumble and sink

but I found I could swim.


At least the blur couldn’t be seen

and the inside of my head

looked and felt better

than I have ever been.


If I feel myself remembering

I grab hold and float

the contents of the bottle

down my insides.

A lifeless party for one,

that I’ll always forget.

These places I have come to fear the most…


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An unfamiliar room,

where nothing feels right.

A crowded beach,

with the ocean roaring.

Any city square

where love is flaunted and displayed.

The “dodgy” area in a city,

with skeptical alleyways I avoid.

The last empty seat on the train,

and nervousness eating me for the journey.

Foreign cities,

with foreign tongues.

A table for one at a restaurant,

with despair and wine.

The empty side of the bed,

too far for me to reach.



Mad times.


, , , , , , , , , ,

Reflections in the way,

I can’t see past the torrid blur,

I’m not better than I was,

this much I know,

and this cracked mirror

won’t fix it anymore.


It’s been too long

and I am heart-sick,

sick of being sick,

tired of being tired,

lonely with being lonely.


These are the moments I wish.


These reflections can’t hide,

even though they should,

staring back like a sorry reminder.

I’m not better.

Listening to a female busker at sunset.


, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Under canopied struts

of metal intertwined with branches

the shade is welcoming

after the day,


her voice trickles

through the microphone

to my ears under the spindling tree.


The guitar a slender tone

of past pop hits

that meld with the sunset sky

and cool breeze

that carries the softness.


There won’t be any sunshine

when she’s gone.



, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As gulls fly

a wave strikes the band,

a destruction of symphony

as equipment is brought

back to sea.


The sudden change in discourse

has everyone out of their seat,

straining for view

through gaps in passersby.


No one helps,

merely observes

as the drummer goes down

to the waters edge

salvaging with despair,

and I sip my coke.

Competing space


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Along the marbled pavement

the sun gently glides

while restaurant hustlers

step up with a menu.


They lavish on the specials

and turn the pages,

matching your step

wearing white on black,

you politely shake your head

walk past.


Another steps up to the plate,

waiting and loitering seeing their

competition fail,

they amble on the pavement

ushering you to shaded tables,

just competing space.

Fade out


, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve lost my touch,

the conversation drops off

and all talk fades into

unanswered background static,

you’re listening to someone better.


I’m not enough

and my heart-warming

sensibility and politeness

are just another way to brush me



I shouldn’t try to leave

square one,

I know that failure is the

only thing


in square two.


There’s no point in moving

if I end up in the same place.

We know who we are.


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We know who we are now

and finally we don’t

have to conform

or wait in line

behind those we know have failed,


we’re progressive

and we’ll be better.

We just want experience

to see

to live

to do.


Everything, everywhere.


We know who we are now,

and we’ve found our niche,

even our fuck ups are still


so you know we won’t let you


We’ll change this place

from the inside out.


We know who we are now,

and it’s our time to be alive.