I left my soul here somewhere
have you seen it?
black leather cover
some blank pages
but most scribbled
with illegible fountain pen ink
a desperate hand
searching for meaning out
of the darkness of light
it's not that important really
I just can't live without it

I never felt a part of it
had a plan of how to spend
this gift of 24 hours
so if it's ok
I'll leave the curtains drawn
and sleep on into the afternoon
let me know
if this is likely to happen again

bathed in light
I can almost touch
it feels alive around me
enveloping
I feel my ancestors fear
and respect
as I capture it
on digital SD card

she’ll turn into her mother
one day
you can see it in her eyes
hear it in her sighs

so let’s lie in each other’s arms
and forget about the world
not worry about children
or names or gender
not worry about mortgages
on our dream castle
holidays we can’t afford
friends
who aren’t really friends
relatives
we only talk to
because they are relatives

hostile family gatherings

this is the melody of love
a song sung only once
until it’s a
slightly remembered tune
we can only just about hum

I wield this body like a weapon
crash test dummy on a suicide mission
all journey and no destination
pulling fuses while the car is in motion
bodywork beat up but engine still functions
travelled to the moon and back
in miles but not realization
put here on this torture track
an illusion of freedom mixed with
fear and excitement
the windshield has gone
and the seatbelt is broken

the view from here is astounding
I can see lives stretching to the horizon
trapped in metal boxes in queues
saving time in luxury leather lined
vehicles each as individually angry
as the next person they’ll never know
or attempt to speak to in their life
but will gesticulate to in their ire
cut up at another set of lights
all set to go red on their way to

their boxes full of possessions
that make them unique all
bought off Amazon or similar sites
tasteful bespoke mass produced
obsolescence built in high tech
that they will never fully understand
having never read the instructions,
lined up one after the other like
soldiers or arranged in some
semblance of randomness that
makes as much use of real estate
as law and profit will allow

they will all spend their lives
trying to escape on holidays
to un-spoilt golden beaches
where concrete hotels are built
to accommodate their dreams
with a view of some sand full of
lobster red beer swilling, fish and chip eating
homesick people who wonder
why the local population can’t speak
their language or understand their
culture, lie in rows of individually
claimed real estate with towels
marking their little piece of paradise

none of them can understand why
I jumped, fell, ended my life
I must have issues of mental health
to even contemplate a way out
of this wonderful world we created
that takes us our whole existence
to earn enough to in the end pay
for, yet here I am ironically standing
on the balcony of a luxury apartment
complex built for modern families
who are looking for the best in life
my end manufactured for me from the
same concrete and glass paradise is made
from, tomorrow they will put up netting
to stop anyone else from escaping