Central Lining

This is Buckhurst Hill.

Your eyes are wide and your voice is shrill.

This is a central line train to Epping.

Burghers of Calais, London

A cold breeze whistled through the castle doors, ruffling the curtains and whipping her hair.  Goose bumps crept enticingly across her flesh as the stillness washed over her.  Her maniacal laugh echoed around the hall, resonant with her jubilation; this was the moment; she had won!

Encased in bronze her enemy was now frozen in time, unbreakable tears clinging to his metallic face.  His head in his hands as he accepted his fate; his true love will never be in his arms again.  The battle was over; she had won.

Silence

The darkness creeps in,
despite the sun through the window,
the darkness is there.
Permeating the silence,
encroaching,
pulling at the fibres of my being.

Am I dead or alive?

The warmth of my tears
reminds my flesh of it's earthly place.
The mind forgets.
Sinking deeper into the darkness.

What Lies Beneath

Untrodden, forsaken
Fresh ground undisturbed by foot fall,
Hundreds of years untended.
Abandoned.  Forgotten.  Wild.

The elegant flight of a night owl,
Wings beating heavily
Across the blue moonlit sky.
Fresh kill, still warm grasped in the talons;
blood drips slowly to the earth.
Blood and soil unite,
the sweet scent awakening what lies beneath.
Nostrils twitch with an aroma long forgotten,
Deep yearning pulls at the flesh.

Asleep for so long, the blood lust takes hold once more.

Does the darkness surround me?

I peer from deep within my body,
Looking from my head to the world outside,
Keeping deep enough inside as not to be touched.

My core, my self, my soul.  Protected.
Surrounded by this body, a façade.  Engulfed.

A darkness.  Ever present.  Seeping.  Pervading.
Overtaking.  Is it mine?

*LISTEN*

...just listen

Not with your head
- but your heart

H E A R the words
I am saying to you

F E E L them

... what?

. sure .

- we can talk later.