The Dweller of The Hills and Woodland.

Up on the downs, in amongst the looming grass, your almond eyes watching. The angry, bloodthirsty world at your tail. See through the fog, see through the trees and run. Run. Run. Run. Though your enemies may be in their thousands, little prince of the woodland and the warren; your bones are fearless and everlasting.… Continue reading The Dweller of The Hills and Woodland.

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Millenials don’t care.

You say we're lost in phone screens that will one day melt our brains. You say we don't talk like you used to talk, around dinner tables, over your Sunday roast, family dinners. But you were speaking empty words. I say we are the ones you're scared of. We are everyone, we hear about what… Continue reading Millenials don’t care.

Frisson.

Kaleidoscope my mind. I am one and I am many. The beats and swaying motions creep up my back, like the moonlight in my dreams, a finite moment of rushing melodies. Bumps speaking braille, mapping my body like a track. Catalyse my catharsis. I am no one and I am myself. Carry my spirit up,… Continue reading Frisson.

A night like dying sparks, eyes like the shards of gloom caught at the end of a cigarette. If only you could have a friend in this quiet Hell. A way to ride out these fields that lap the infinite strands of sorrow, onto your cheeks. Find an opening into the morning, and map a… Continue reading

Distance.

A far off whisper from the distant universe. It challenges you to fight. Because the world is wide and microscopic, minuscule insignificance's block the streams of dust falling from outer space, settling around us, teasing of other worlds. Where love is a hollow middle give me the stars, their compact atoms made up of everything.… Continue reading Distance.

New Years and all that stuff.

Happy New Years to all my followers 🙂 I don't really do resolutions, but It's been something I've been talking about all year so it doesn't really count...And that is just to write more...write more in my journal, write more letters, write more spontaneous poetry, think of more short stories, finish my book by the… Continue reading New Years and all that stuff.

Requests

They asked me to show them love, so I wrote a thousand words on the night sky - stars caught like smoke in the air of a closed house. But, it didn't impress. So I cried over fabricated people, lives written in pages, deaths captured in pictures pained, with figurative tears. It didn't impress. So… Continue reading Requests

Première fois. ‘I love first times. I want my whole life to be composed of them.’ Let another morning come, beginnings are a drug that can never keep giving. I inject its nectar into my eyes, sprouting fruits of inceptions, and dawns of introductions that stretch out into a horizon of the first light, on… Continue reading