A new morning, the same routine to the car
The way work creeps into your life
From a few hours overtime to living to work
Your cats grow older and older each day
The plants become used to surviving alone
The house learns to live without your life
Poetry | Stories | Photography
A new morning, the same routine to the car
The way work creeps into your life
From a few hours overtime to living to work
Your cats grow older and older each day
The plants become used to surviving alone
The house learns to live without your life
cold pastel colours
the heliacal rising
a quiet morning
an empty office
a deep chill in the corner
flickering movement
investigating
The office was once a morgue
unnatural cold
sitting among ghosts
the terror some people feel
displaced paper, files
a quiet knowledge
‘You know they laugh at us working’
undisturbed billing
that rust-red planet
from the moment he could walk
Mars was once his home
unable to sleep
watching the stars and the sky
longing to return
Sky Man, a Martian
with a soul made of red earth
longing for something
they lived in the dark
once there were lights, power lines
now there are candles
the meaning of energy
they lost the information
the bellowing wind
whipping up a storm outside
while we sit snugly
The Void sits by the saucer
another excuse for milk
the leaves of Autumn
to hover over the death
beautiful colours
picking the one that feels right
press a leaf between pages
Big Red Desert Waves
the rippling arid sand dunes
An ancient sunset
Within the darkness
you are enveloped inside
sticky Spring-drenched sheets
a fluffy weight on your chest
swiped by the paw of a bear
The waning fire smoulders
They gather in the distance
voices from another time
deep shapes move towards the fire
shapeshifting metamorphoses
gather strength outside the circle
waves of gooseflesh stir the spirit
light and drums beat in the distance
from the cursed forest cathedral