(Fairy) Tale

November 23, 2017

Drop dead gorgeous.
Or just drop dead.
Never sleeping.
In her own bed.
Did she have one?
Who really knows.
That’s the path.
This story goes.


The wagon

November 22, 2017

Nearly made it there
Only a few thousand were left
But alas, I fell off

Glum night

November 21, 2017

The dark shade of midnight
A purple, grey and blue.
Strokes haphazardly
Across the white canvas
Of a winter afternoon.
Illuminated in darkness
And shrouded in light.
The ghastly scene
Certain to fright.
A wisp of cloud
To finish the look
A dark sad painting
Not to be mistook

Losing sight

November 20, 2017

Twenty days
No words.
Thirty days
No words.
Forty days
No words.

Grey days

November 19, 2017

These days
Of Grey skies
And black mornings
Make mourning seem
An okay thing
But mourning what?
The lost summer sun?
The dreams of love?
The days of fun?
Goodbye to them all
Now dreary days
And darker nights
Empty. Alone. Hollow.
What once stood
And reached for the stars
Is left empty
And covered in scars

Back at it

November 18, 2017

Type them fast
Flowing, failing, fearing
Maybe no more


November 17, 2017

Three old man
With the thinning hair
Looking back
At me
Standing on
The other side
Of that grey glass
Has clearly
Lost the path