I sit alone on the sofa
a book open on my lap
my passport to somewhere else
I don’t know where my reality lies
Is it in the bright spring sunshine
outside my window
or is it among the shadows
that fill my mind?
The shadows blot out the sun
like the shadows
of gathering storm clouds
thunder rumbles across an empty plain
where I stumble and crawl
Is it less real
because it is in my mind?
Who can say
which is right
and which is wrong
and so I escape into
someone else’s words
someone else’s
imagined reality.



The wind is invisible

but it tears my thoughts away from me

they stream like storm-blown hair

wild and tangled

no matter how I try

I cannot gather them up

I do not recognise them

as they flow away from me

flapping and screaming

like escaping red kites

torn from clutching fingers

I wonder what will happen

if the threads that bind them to me