Wednesday, 21 February 2018



I stand on the bridge of a lonely ship
that ploughs the seas of time. There’s
no tomorrow until it arrives, no love, no
hate, no crime. The wake is a churn of long
dead days adrift in the bygone years, full
of the dreams of women and men that
vanished amid their fears. I steer by a star
that glitters above in the tides of pressure
below, with the voice of a god in my
binnacle brain that tells me the way to go.

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