Acklum

gulls soar grey against grey over the vast ocean of car park

one day I will be fine

flood lights shine white light despite the sun clouds build up high towers pressure piles on

I want to forget

when it's time to work roll up my sleeves to hide where rain has dampened fabric

too late to pretend I don't care

it'd be peaceful here if not for the road

nowhere to go but shopping

thirty precious minutes

before sign in

sun shining hot

through mandatory dark coloured trousers

this is what normal people do

on a Sunday

I guess

watch them move along

on slow meander

from car park to checkout

so much more to need

than sunlight and time

heavy bags to carry

picnic area always empty

you don't come here to rest

unless

you're waiting with pen in hand for a shift to start

or happier amongst pine cones and bird shit

than sanitised commercial seating

the air down here is polluted by petrol

but it's free to look up at midges dancing

under a blue sky

no purchase necessary to sit

we always find ways to survive

the scavenging sparrows and I

cold room grey floor full of unused stock

learn new systems to disguise profit as care

numb toes heavy door full of potential

exit must remain for your own safety closed

When I look up there are no stars, only Jupiter where The Twins should be.

Is it vanity to think we create reality?

Whose thoughts are these?

I know why my arms are heavy, my pen is light and life feels a little bit distant in it's demands: just mild dis-so -ci-ation.

The Hydra is right here outside my window hidden behind clouds.

ancient aching temples

full of charts, spreadsheets, tables

nailed down to prevent upturning

nothing is owed my bowl is full light is flowing, flowing, flowing through

nor a wave

alone I read I chose to live there is nothing to forgive, my friend farewell

halos ripple around her

white face, eyes focused

she dives repeatedly

right into the sun

hidden pockets phobia deep internal flesh out opinion in guts tangle cared then scared now select: dream / wish / other

voice not mine punish car crash laugh film take naked outside frame ugly looks no accident blame error shame terror fragile human product purpose sleep still exhaust dirty choke breath crawl under overwhelm

lonely low alone hold phone know no not write not right try why try? try not less provide guilt inside chest kept lock down dead spine centre

Long ago

a woman from far away

planted saplings here.

She wrote books of history

and studied the legacy of emperors, she knew

that migrants built worlds here once.

While I grew tall her hair grew white,

she died one summer

with the taste of english apples on her lips.

Every year since

when spring breeze blows through blossoms

pink snow flutters down

to settle along this street.

I can't make time nor sacrifice mine

enough is borrowed to know we do not own life

Worth less than nothing unable to provide all I can do is open my palms

pass on pass through pass away

Consider pins and nets neatly written labels wings bright like gemstones Consider the word mine and the joys of ownership

Consider beaks and tongues open mouths to feed wings sweet like dried fruit Consider how good it feels to satisfy a hunger

Consider jealousy, and freedom To grow wings and fly for a moment in this life is better than anything you will ever take or buy