Crimson dust for a forgotten man,

The nuances of place emerge

 

All of us are wearing lace-up shoes

In this we are the same,

And other ways

That are hidden.

 

In screaming, panicked pain swells

 

Help may be

The only thing I can offer,

As well as my ear

And my time.

 

Bleeding the sky with your cosmic clouds

That shelter my dark matter

From within my shell these words

Will let you in

 

New shirt from Top Shop

Then down to the abandoned underground

 

Petals falling on her eyelids –

Like rain –

An unrequited love letter to Mars

With poetry at its heart.

 

Dosing myself in silence.