—-

[Happy Friday! Wrote this on a plane just before my flight back to the UK from Luxembourg (it was wonderful, thank you for asking) earlier this week. Enjoy!]

An unbroken beacon

A challenge

A world unexplored but lifeless

No potential

It is not death that stares me down

But the absence of life

No colour

A black and white relic

Hanging high above the horizon

We jolt into action

Spring forward

And fly

And yet

You remain

(It remains, no personality lies dormant)

Staring at the setting sun

Unblinking

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Ice and Cotton and Wolves

[It’s a piece from Morocco. Prize for the winner.]

alive – so broken
and ‘do what’ to ‘don’t just’
the puzzle is itching,
it’s clearly inside.
i come to pulse out
no one knows it’s gonna fit.
what pieces of the creeping
do you pound into doing?
i am them.

33 – 18 4
5 ’40 9′ 31 ’16 35′
26 15 25 24,
34 3 28.
1 32 10 27 30
6 7 8 38 39 17.
37 12 13 14 29
11 23 20 22 36?
19 2 21.

Cold Keys

Lying still, listening forlornly
to distant echoes of footsteps and laughter
Darkness surrounds.
Once, so popular, now,
so alone
The change sudden, unexpected
Preceded by that too-long earthquake

Dusty keys waste away,
metaphorically, for wear is minimal
The mind stays sharp, but sad, unused
Not whirred into life for far too long

What made you leave?
This ‘trip’ you spoke of
brought fear, but then
I came with you
Joy, and now
Fear returns again
I lie alone, unused, in darkness
Listening forlornly to a life without me.

[Wrote this as I’m on holiday this week and won’t be posting much, hopefully with that knowledge you can work out what it’s about? See y’all soon and have a good week!]

The Final Moments of Lady Williams

Soft skin, delicately blushed with pink. She’d waited weeks for him to touch her, since the spark she’d felt from his hand at the store. Now here he was again, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of her. She felt something move inside her as his fingers gripped her skin, his lips and teeth cool against her. He sunk his teeth deep into her flesh. She felt movement again, a writhing…
He spat out her flesh, disgusted at the creature now revealed in the gaping wound he’d left.
Cruel rejection as he tossed her carelessly into the food recycling bin.