Reclaimed land

Reclaimed Land The pinnacle… follow the lights and you will find the gold. A Severn wind rattles the soul, rain like pins my face a cushion. Edifice a vision, wooden windows a fact, a collection of faces glued in community, Now divided again by scheme funded foolery. To escape is to renounce only with strength from intrinsicality. As thrust upon pages turn, A dyeing

Your Last Breath #4

Salt cold drys yours face, damp, alone…  

Your Last Breath #2

Tarmac makes the face grow warmer…