The world looks to be ending (in your arms)

As you and I abandon all plans past next TuesdayDon’t cry for the mob will hear us sniffle:The mob who forgot their neighbourAmidst their self-mummification who Monitor and mutilate and I long to be in your arms As the Flames rise up like spears in a phalanxAnd we self-isolate in squat-houses,The sky tinted red butContinue reading “The world looks to be ending (in your arms)”

Black Spot

Rocks fling from the asphalt, loose pennies cast at my upturned bowler-hat bubble car, asteroids challenging my ozone windshield; I’d forgotten how these roads feel. Scattered with obituaries to long-dead high-school hopefuls. Laminated photographs, cryogenic colleagues forever youthful; trunks smiling with plastic flowers, music blared: my Piccadilly daydream- Each sliced bud grows in me, burgeoning,Continue reading “Black Spot”