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My garden, my world

In the dust of the mighty twins

Love in the afternoon is what you want it to be

Wrote whilst on a high - don't ask why.

A short tale from Camelot

Compelled, pressured, push and prodded, Placed on a pedestal of ice, Worshiped like a winter god, An April fool about to die, I feel the world is...

Those unsuspecting seafaring men Who have unwillingly Taken the captains maggot Find themselves, Destruction destroyed, Swimming The non-specific carnal strain, Share huddled dawn On addicted streets. In phantom blankets, Jealous leeches quake. Wind swept woman, engine knocking, Staggers fuelless. Arid mildew ridden laundry Walking hazy way Imagines golden marionette And totter dances a step or two. Dream portfolio refuge flutters, Slick smile wander, Across the railway tracks By the gas works, Floating face down In screaming lakes Borrowed gentle twilight, Still burning.

This black strapped, Leather back, Mind hacked daydream, Wire meshed, microchip, Cronenberg vision of fire. Podules and pestilence Slide through...

Blustered frozen simple smiles, crushed by the weight of a thousand delicate snowflakes. The tree bends and breaks in the floating rain, in the...