Photo by Dan Fraser

I have been swallowed

by the desperation of time

and the day that follows

and the next

then there is the noise of it all

and the eyes


What are the fires that smoulderĀ 

in the dark shadows of my eyes?

Who lives in the ashes

of my anger and lost dreams?

Is there comfort in the pile

of old bodies I have used up

and thrown away?

What of the one left now?

Can I still burn the stars of night

with reaching hands?

I am a shadow of myself.