Inside:pitch black.dead of night.blowing curtains.a blue glow lights up the room.
Outside:everywhere is empty.leaves fall.moon beams push through a thin layer of clouds.
I miss when parks felt Infinite and playgrounds feltLike fortresses. When
The night sky melts onto the ground with a gentlepitterpatter.
Mountain near grey roadWander up with me. Hide upHigh, from everything.
Later, we curl up.Smaller than the grass itselfHide, from everyone
When I was younger, my biggest talent was losing things.Whether it was a jumper,wallet, keys, memory or even limbs.
I lost my hand once,Couldn’t find it inside of my sleeveI remember it every few months, what a dunce!I was…
Windowpanes imitating spiders websPuddles cracked beyond repairWaves crashing into a rocky landscape, giving life to rock pools…
An ocean of long bearded old menArguing over a long forgotten argumentSentences crashing over each otherSpittle foaming out of their…
Poking up through rustGreen through metal, unwanted.Pushing to the sky.
“Why aren’t they called purple bells?” she askedTo either side, a sea of bluebells reaches outBringing colour to a once brown wood.
I have become obsessed with the idea of poetry as an image.Poetry as a way to describe something that perhaps sight cannot.