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A few tables across from me, among friends, sat a gentleman of modest height and of slender build, he wore blue denim and a baggy

Long were the shrieks that rapped at the frost-cracked timber of the buckling shack door. Delsi watched from a corner of the dilapidated cabin’s gloom

Black and white, romanticised; a collector of shiny treasures. Children know not your darker nature and the blood soaked into your feathers. While the corvid,

I find you everywhere Human made or at home In a little pod Tucked under the eaves, Across the fields, A neck, a hand, Always

She comes home from a long day at work to an empty flat, every night. She hangs her keys on the nail on the wall

As I am waiting for my toastie, as my stomach is impatiently grumbling, my eye is drawn to a moving figure to my right. The

As her toddler son, Harris, skips away from their table to get her some sugar, she looks out of the window and sighs while passing a black comb

Frantic feet scramble for the steps beneath my feet, Guided by blind eyes following blind eyes like bats in the night. A gasp for air,

The resonance of her tread smacked against the hard stone of the black chamber, she knew it was stone by the scuff of her heel

There was once a young man from Portobello And his favorite colour was yellow. He wore it head to knee, And got stung by a

Empty pavement, empty road. Streetlights lighting up the nothingness An overgrown island Two trees, a few flowers and some weeds. Summertime, Not too hot and

Muddy piled leaves on a bed of unspoiled roots Like dams reject the flimsy light. Rusty black died fence threatening escapism. Faceless strangers treading down

It is 4:00AM. Not 3:59AM or 4:01AM but 4:00AM on the dot. The desk awaits him, like a miniature boxing ring with pencils; talismans; a

She wanted for more. Friends, family, career were not enough. She wanted for all. She wished to have   The power to turn all she

She missed sex the most. She thought it was funny how it just stopped. One day she’d been having it quite regularly and then poof!

Pristine black felt shoulders slope upwards to a high collar that meets salt and pepper Sergeant Major hair. Not one crumb of dandruff, dust, not

She’s around the same age as me, middling. A weathered lump of a woman with mousey hair that sits in raggedy locks and swishes on

A little sucking sound rouses my attention. There the soft, pink crown of a tiny head rests on the crook of a mother’s arm. Thin