etched upon your face

she was a windy wednesday morning with the

rain dripping from dusted eyelashes, sighing at

the creak of trains pulling away in all

their melancholy. 

why aren't they allowed to stay anywhere for long

dawn broke and there was no reason

to stop, a solitary figure stretched into her horizons, 

maybe paradise exists amongst

the illuminated crisp packets and cigarette buts

holy in their second-rate glory

2 minute writing exercise - 22:32pm

You can't connect the dots
Because you have forgotten Sunday
You are that papered ribbon of a moment
When you wake up and forget who you are.

And the coffee-scented sunrise catching his dusty eyelids
Doesn't make the breath catch in your throat
Any more. The imagery's turned stale.
Your camera's out of film.