"Something to be said..."

Like sketching out life in pencil: A fear of ink indelible.

Alone in this drowsy epicentre In the after-silence of the bells - The stone column an extension of my spine, The dome the weight of my t...

Like a fanged glass shard Salivating in sleepy rain, Another week drips the dregs Of its hours like watery metal, Throbbing a wistful glint ...

Winter gloom set in this morning: Doused the room in dark As I clung to the life of my body; Temples throbbed blue as The alarm’s piercing l...

One of those train compartments From the films in grainy colour: Through a peeling swivel latch, where Bronzed wall-lamps trickle muffled Go...

What lies it impregnates in ink. Broods too long on the briefest Of mist-swum pictures that swim my head, Shorter than static though they li...

The warmth has gone blue, words twisting red in the wake; night comes with black syrup and I blur as bold as the smudge of strange charc...