Day 488 - Scrap Midnight Poem 2

It's dark beneath the eyelids

Shadow pass, faces without features

The birds hang light bats from branches.

The outstretched arms of the trees

Cross like a forest of raised spears.

How long till words find form?

A year on from the disaster

I am still waiting for them to mobilise

Into some useful function

Thy sit about me like the discards of a defeated army

Unable to wipe the smirk away from silence.

Day 487 - Scrap Midnight Poem 1

It is easy to be as you are

God knows I do it everyday

We are reigned by instincts to behave

In manner that make sense to us

We travel the middle route

Back and forth endeavouring to avoid hurt and tiredness.

Still things become fastened to you,

You are like the ship on the sea,

You are restrained by degrees

Your hull becomes overwhelmed with decay

It seeks to saturate you

And draw you into the depths

It is green and dark down there

No sounds can be heard

But you know above the surface

The wind still blows and

The horizon is cold clear and cool.

Day 486 - How To Marry the Darkness pt. 6

I stepped into the darkness.  The room was as dry as a tomb. A fan was oscillating slowly bringing with it the smell of fresh lilies. The scent of them was enough to seed an involuntary memories of childhood; I saw my grandmother sowing by the bay window and my brother in short pants. I saw my dog, Arrow, chasing a red ball down through a field of corn and the noise of birds whistling through the trees. I was overcome by an irreconcilable desire to return to a forgotten time.

I staggered outside. It was still midday. Part of me knew it would always be midday; now and for many years to come.

Day 485 - Centre

Day 484 - Rain