Here, the sun
oversteps Her
boundaries, and cries
out over the valleys.

She reaches over the hills,
grasping at the smog, rising up
Into the layers of smoke and fog
Swirling above the selfish, spotlit town.

It bleeds through Her fingers and ascends to the
Clouds, rich with rivers of black tar, asbestos, rise!
Swirling, brooding in the atmosphere, coughing, choking
To the end.

"Why does it rain so much these days?"
A poem about the weather.
#1 in the Bonus collection of Distant Dystopia.
Lewis Hyden Nov 25
'Privacy' is
A misspelling
Of 'piracy'.

The V was
Put in to
Confuse us.
A poem about privacy.
Lewis Hyden Nov 18
I have only two
States of being:

Hungry, and
Occasionally, I may be both.
Lewis Hyden Nov 18
'Private Messages'
are now called
'Direct Messages'.

Maybe it's because
They're not quite so
'Private', anymore.
That's mildly worrying.
(Not my idea but still worth writing about.)
Lewis Hyden Nov 11
If money be the root
Of all evil, let evil take root
And blossom into roses
To sweeten my tuition fees.
I move onto University next year. Here's hoping I get a decent loan.

— The End —