Where My Heart Is
People fast trekking, as I sit and watch them.
Streaks of colour on wheels flash by.
The light is leaving us again.
I’m hungry, and eat some pollution.
Oh where the hell is it?
When will I get there?
My box arrives.
I board it.
I feel like a French fry, hot and bothered.
I stare into my mobile and pass some time.
As we stop, we all push forward.
I throw myself back onto the concrete.
Familiarity at last.
I breathe in peace again as I arrive.
It’s all good now.
My heart beats its rhythm as my kettle sings for me.
The Sound of Whooshing Trees
different sized crosses
gold leaf poems
beautifully displayed flowers
incense burning in the distance
crying people surrounding a wreath
covered dirt mounds
the sound of whooshing trees
Masquerade evening stillettoes blood lust youth power perfection suspense drama drama hungry teeth thirsty strength death sex religion hierarchy clan style slaughter drunk on blood full moon