Visionary Heads It came to rest in the corner of my room, concealing its face under the cover of a cool twilight. I struggled to perceive its smooth contours as it remained motionless, yet my dancing eyes persuaded me otherwise. It was breathing; a soft, slow pulse. Its dynamic frame overcame me, this wild beast was hungry for me. Its eyes, ruby-red, glowed demonically; a glow which filtered through my eyes, deep into my mind. If it had already captured me, it understood me; as if, with each sound, it was deeper within me. I could sense it smell my essence, taste the vapour trails of my soul which snaked through bone and tissue. Suddenly I was aware of a draining sensation, something falling away from me as this threatening force inhaled my last thought, my last incentive to exist. My #lifeless body seemed to float, all senses became one, and then it sang to me, it started with a mechanical groan. And as if it knew my needs, my self-indulgent need to suffer, to test my sanity; it sang to me as to centre upon directly my cravings, the desire to bend and distort my already weakening grip on a constant reality. It drew out of me, skinning me alive, it sought after only one thing. It pushed skull and ribs aside, then it really sang; a thousand noises, a thousand voices rolling from its ancient invisible tongue. And so my future was no longer my own, the beast knew where it was taking me, where it was dragging me. It watched with precision the movements of my thoughts and as my desires chased new unreachable ideals it came hurtling at me, screaming out in human tongue and with the voice came a storm. Wave after wave, through the darkness, it eddied around my room, a vortex of layered sounds, arousing my fear and drawing it past all reason. And in that moment I could taste the pure ecstasy, and in that moment I let myself drown, and dissolve. Then it came to rest and I was finally pulled clear from the intrinsic thunder of my zealous imaginings. The beast curled and retreated, it was no longer needed. The lights still glowed unwaveringly but no longer eyes. The beast had appeased its hunger; its music had been a ritual fire for its private dance, but now only smouldering ashes, an ambience, soft and luxuriant.

November Midnight fell upon the earth and with it came the artic breath of winter. Shadows of trees danced with ravaged motion below the dim, insignificant glow of the street lamps. A faint indistinguishable drizzle gently hissed as it fell upon the dry, cracked pavement. A passing car, obliterated by its own hazy beams, cut through the calm darkness and dissolved into the indefinite distance of the overcast city. The hypnotic movement of the lights flashed across the impenetrable screen of dismal rain as they searched the veiled skies. Blank faces of houses, unknown figures cradling desert hearts, faceless voices; a constant stream of vibrations, hollow echoes flowing through the darkness, spilling across the sombre streets, dissolving through imperceptible cracks and hollows, through drain covers into the murky depths. The city at night: heartless and drained of spirit, retreats into an uneasy drowsiness. A window, illuminated with candlelight, teased the night with private human behaviour and secret conversation. The candle, a dancing star in the cool, dark room, showered the walls with fireworks. Infinite shapes and shades flickered, swelled, diminished and exploded above their silent forms. The vague space of unpersonifying darkness hung effortlessly before his eyes. A pale phantom to haunt the inward eye. In an unperceivable moment through its planes rose her faint, shapeless form. Her soft flesh seemed to blossom, an array of skin flowers reflecting the essence of the room. She drifted in and out of focus, her eyes seemed to glow, attracting every shard of light. Deep into those brown orbs, far deeper through the impenetrable blackness, the centre of the eye. From her calm face flowed every thought and emotion, they vibrated through her flesh, ripples across the eyes’ surface. In violent flashes he remembered every moment that he had seen this face. He could hear the faint tapping of gentle rain and it washed through him. No matter how much he could convince himself that he was close to her, this night she was a stranger, distant and unknown. His eyes fell under the weight of her presence. Slowly she moved a reassuring hand to his clenched fist. He clenched his eyes tight, he tried desperately to withdraw. He wanted the candle to dissolve, to take him to the other side. He wanted to be out there in the rain and never look back. But how could he break free, shed an entire #life, burn every memory. The thought seemed so desirable, yet so painfully distant. Yet he had stood here before and every time returned, burned by the inconceivableness of his dream. It was beyond him, never to touch; a distant light. Her delicate touch, fingers through the darkness lifted him gently until brilliant light filled his face. Her devotion was over-powering. There was so much within her waiting for him, looking at him through her enchanted eyes. They both rose. They stood close. Hands and eyes talking, their mouths touched in the darkness. The candle died and the fading light shifted across their faces as they looked through the window under an unfamiliar sky. They didn’t see me. Had I seen them at all? There was only a suggestion, as if a dark space were being filled with something equally subdued. They didn’t see me standing in the street below. Lost in the grey drizzle; looking up at an empty window, dark with private human behaviour and secret conversation. While they slept through the falling night, I retreated into an uneasy drowsiness; where cars hissed by my drained spirit, where the dim insignificant glow of the street lamps guided my aching feet into the vast obscurity beyond the city.

For Her Light I could hardly feel the cigarette end between my fingers. Only a slight warmth from the faint shimmering glow as the smoke stroked my fingers before fading into the sterilized white light. I still couldn’t perceive where my fingers met the cigarette, only a slight warmth. How long have I been here? The ash which hung tentatively finally gave way, and fell to the meticulously cleaned tiles. I hadn’t even put the cigarette to my mouth save for lighting it. How long have I been here? Starched corridors lit by relentless white light glared up at the windows hiding any natural colour. I could smell the hygiene; the detergent, the anti-bacterial wash and it inflamed my nostrils, a sharp aroma which gave me a nauseous feeling at the back of my throat. Faces passed me, eyes darting across medical records, eyes blank with fatigue, and at a constant pace as they dissolved into the walls. ‘Are you waiting for someone, sir?’ The voice came from behind me. ‘How long have I been here?’ I asked, though not concerned for her answer. But she didn’t even get a chance to reply. The one image I wanted to forget, descended upon my mind with the vengeance of a rising storm. Red; running along corridors, licking at the walls. Blood, flesh and tears. Must get back to her. I moved swiftly back to the room and as I approached I couldn’t shake off the blood, but I knew that I must be there as it finally breaks through. It is what she wanted from me. Why had I left the room? It wasn’t just the blood which gently rolled down her convulsing legs. Or was it the isolation? Me; fading behind a screen of machines, of tubes and incisions, and the sound of them in all the dark passage ways of my ears. She was groaning deeply, then screaming, the echoes of her agony in the dark passage ways of my heart. I could see in her melting eyes that she had heard nothing, could see nothing, and as I left the room she did not flinch or wail as if to prevent me from leaving her side. The machines had now become hot and bothered, transmitting short sharp blasts of electronic panic, they seemed to recoil into the shadows as I passed them by. As the masks fell upon their faces, as the needles punctured her skin, as the surgical knives rattled on the trolley, as they pulled the still-born from between her legs, I could feel her #life draining, her light ebbing away. Then I blindly ran. Then I was alone. The fresh air began to soothe the hypnotic buzz and electronic pulses that seemed to linger in my head, but I could feel myself being stalked by some unknown shadow, I could feel its presence just beyond the surrounding trees and street lights. I rested here content to watch the winged night #life darting carelessly around the dim amber glow. How long have I been here? Suddenly there was a crowd of children swelling around my legs, like a rising lake. But their laughter and warm ways tore through me. I felt myself falling; were they pulling on my coat sleeve, or were my legs sinking into the frosty concrete, or was I being consumed by my own unrelenting grief and loss. I felt broken, utterly horrified as the shadow fell upon me. All my dreams distorted came crashing down at me, and I kept on screaming until I finally collapsed onto the stone pavement. The children and their terrified voices soon fled into the night and with them all my dreams - still-born and dead. That cool night I ran, dissolving through layers of voices, footsteps, car engines and the whole beating rhythm of every child and street.

Cuauhtemoc August light catches the roosting falcon In Indian summer twilight A momentary lapse in the sombre hues Cast from the sinking sun A pause enough for the pale grey feathers To catch fire For this master of wind and air To draw flame from within the hooked head Hooked feet clasp rough bark A gaze locks the rugged land Hooked feet become hooked wings And the gaze remains A constant guard over her dying land She is an immense world of delights Gliding from one plane to the next Uninvited in every one Yet far from a stranger She would see herself as a guardian The watcher of all things A lost angel upon a darkened earth Far from a stranger She embraces the rolling landscape beneath While gliding she kisses the air

A Prayer For Rain The morning was heralded only with A bitter swirling wind In the distance clouds gathered Dark and immense Phantoms from some lost age Crossing this dull planet Spanning the sky in one graceful movement At one monotonous speed The wind serpentine crawled Behind these giants Urging them Commanding them Anticipation Dark mysterious eyes all encompassing Vapour trails rising Weaving through the damp air Body electric And the skies danced across its vision A deep pulse rolled through its legs The rough mane swaying dancing in the wind The labyrinthine mind pounding with desire Caught in that moment man and beast become one The craggy threatening rocks The heather strewn land Framed the picturesque scene Lawless and free for this solitary creature The aura was absolute The creature a feral god Unbridled passion flowed endlessly Through the megalith-still body Tension mounted Its head reared back an inaudible scream As the storm tore apart the heavens The roar of the tempest jolted his floating mind A lightning bolt that struck him from his dreams Here comes the rain From the skies they fell melting on the window Opaque veins ever-flowing in streams Reflecting gleams and shapes from its secret spring Here comes the rain He stretched to hold the image Just a whisper But in the vastness of the storm-swept highlands It was an immortal scream