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My Oblivion

It gets to me like Dirt underneath my fingernails Creeps up real slow Steals the color from the canvas Leaving a white, barren wasteland Light is a funny thing It casts shadows in plain view

In water

Up to my chest, I begin to sink, swallowed by waves.

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its with the hint of a kiss that she leaves her mark, upon my heart. And here it stays... with timeless echo's sent without delay to now reach to me, from this cold Iron bed frame.

March is on the march & The Apple Tree

March is on the march. I hear its tiny boots. I hear them in the rain that feeds new roots and shoots. Soon you will see the bugle call of golden daffodils then Springtime will come marching

Green Magic

As the magician conjures up a ring Behind his silken, snow white handkerchief; Rising, the golden sun unveils the Spring And vanishes the snow it hid beneath. Caterpillars turn into butterflies

Breaking up (it turns out) is not so hard to do...

The beginning of one relationship, and the end of another.

A photograph of you sitting on a white plastic seat on the Hook of Holland/Harwich ferry in the midday sunlight on August 13th

Although I never said exactly what I was thinking, and although I realise that twenty-three years is a long time to have waited and the moment may not be as fresh

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The grass beyond the window pane seems oh so far away, My dreams beyond these endless days seem paler day by day. The lands across the oceans deep are like a dream to me,

St. Swithin's Day

The found couple sat on the bench, holding hands. A July summer, English seafront.

America at Last – Part 6

NYC – Roanoke: 526 miles

A longstanding Tradition

I'd never been hunting before.

The Last Cigarette

I hid my cigarette in the fold of my coat...
Cherry

And This Is Why, Dad, You Are The Best Footballer In The World.

My favourite game - when you'd kick the football from our garden, over the house and into the lane. I'd watch you, ready as a cheetah, for your toes to connect with
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Today I Heard Them

The little birds are home again- chipping away at the ends of Winter, whistling the beginnings of Spring.

A story without details.

he wasn't serving time on Death Row

Conceit

I’m liberal to a degree in a world that cannot be free of criticism over every step- not even applause for success, just more to blame as a consequence.

The Garden of Azrael

This was an extremely strange piece that I had great fun writing. I tried to make it as enveloping as I could without using any pronouns. I tried to capture the feeling of a dream.

A SINGLETON ON LESBOS ISLAND - Part 6

I had crashed and burned it wasn’t going to happen, Billie Big Bananas was a dead man...

Footsteps In The Dark

This short story was inspired by my literary hero, H.P. Lovecraft.

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