The train is a mechanical snake,
its hiss occasionally scrawled
above the grating of its own

movement as it cuts through
the smear of graffiti and concrete
and waste and dry bracken.

A single voice, “she was the
third fastest girl at the gala,
yeah she was really pleased”,

the voice enveloped by the
drone once again. The train
entering the tunnel.

The Financial Times lies on
the plastic table, the pages loose
from bored ******* bears the

headline: sacrifices required for ambitious goal.
Eyes trace the same paragraph over

and over, drawing nothing from
the coldness of the type script.
I think about conversation but my

tongue lulls in my mouth, dry,
and my mind wanders between
small talk and meagre pleasantries.

I stare at the man across from me for
what seems like minutes, knowing that
he knows I watch him, analyse him,

but there is no fight or pretence, only the
tired apathy and reluctance I know.
his arms cross. His eyes close with half sleep.

Television glows
blue upon my skin.

My head lies on
the static of radio

and the electric
of the streetlights

blaring through my
window keeps me awake.

The red digits of
my alarm clock

grow less vibrant as
the grey sun stirs

to the accompaniment
of the jubilant birds

with their repetitive
song which hangs

like these vacant walls,
holding me.

0 0 1 1 1 0 1
1 0 0 1 1 1 0
0 0 1 1 0 1 1
1 0 1 1 0 1 0
0 1 1 0 0 1 1
1 1 0 1 1 0 0
0 1 0 1 0 1 1
1 1 0 0 1 1 0

1 1 1 0 0 1 0
0 0 1 1 1 0 1
1 1 1 0 1 0 0
0 0 1 0 1 1 1

1 1 0 0 0 1 1
1 0 0 0 1 1 1

Summer rain.
Like splinters of glass falling
through green shades.

Gathered leaves are swept,
the mist pulls into the station.
Hands in pockets

The first snowflake settles
but soon melts away.
Unnoticed.

Walking home. The smell
of wild mint by the stream.
And sunsets.

on the platform
a girl drops a pink tissue
and it lies there,
all scrunched up like a rose

Remember Him while you are young,
before your days and years grow dim,
before your time finally draws to a close
and you realise that life has ebbed away.
Remember Him before the sun burns out,
before the constellations are turned off
and the dark clouds remain after the rain.
Remember Him on the day the guards quake,
when the soldiers are doubled over in fear,
when the workers stop because they have fallen
and the faces peering through windows fade,
when the doors of houses are closed shut
and the whetstone grinds to a standstill.
Remember Him when people wake to silence
because the birdsong can no longer be heard.
Remember Him when people fear the mountains
and terror finds them wherever they walk.
Remember Him when the almond tree blossoms
and the grasshopper can barely drag itself along,
when all love and desire and passion wither away,
when the mourners come to wander the streets,
because you are reaching your everlasting home.
Remember before the silver ring is melted down
and the golden bowl is smashed into pieces,
before the water jar is shattered at the fountain
and the pulley wheel at the well is broken.
The dust becomes one with the earth again
and your spirit returns to He who gave it.

Nothing has meaning.
Everything is pointless,
an inane transient cloud.
A single breath of smoke.

Church!
I feel like if I walked into a church
then I'd probably burst into flames.
She said.

Well, maybe you should repent
of your sinful way of living,
accept Jesus into your heart
then go out and love the poor,
as the Lord taught us to do.
Replied the Rent Boy