Weariness of grey dawn. Wrapped in the cocoon of my self,
I sink into stillness.

Along the Edge

At dawn I tumble down the spiralling staircase of words – into the rattling darkness coiled at the bottom. I crouch wide-eyed waiting for the sounds to ebb; for clarity to emerge from the ocean of chaos. I walk barefoot along the silver border marked with glistening strings of jellyfish, underneath silken seagull cries – along the water, not thinking.

Rhapsody on a Summer Night

Cracks. Open, like red orchid mouths: old wounds bloom
in the boiling pool of night.