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My Dear, Beware the man that doesn’t see. And see the flower that turns your eye upon it. Gently moving from one side and to the other And then beware the man that cuts it from its ground. Presented as a token piece. With words as offerings from the Gods. Hollow is this empty speech.…
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A piano melody plays. It’s random with clashing tones and repetitive drones, little notes flicking by as the evening draws in. With muffled voices and faded laughs. And as the lick of the tune goes on, a train dumbly carrying passengers from work to homes rattles on by. One cave to another. One we choose,…
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This morning I swatted a fly on my face as I woke up. I had dry spittle on the side of my mouth. The bed sheets stuck to me like honey, presumably wanting to continue what was the night before. That sweet morning sleep. The land between. I lay there for a while. For what…
DARCY GREY 