Lights on the hill
Cold on the window
Reflections too
The face
Of the man
You used to be
You are
Then
Now
Lights on the hill
Framed by darkness
By night
By memories
And feelings of past
The cold
Comes back
Interrupts. Reminds.
Of times like this
Of lights on the hill

Last light fading
People stand in long metal tubes
Moving
The city of levels. Hidden spaces.
Up. Down. Under and above
Hong Kong night.
The lights.
The Desperation
Fatigue on their faces
A look I’ve seen before
New York. Tokyo. Hong Kong.
Concrete Crypts.
We’re already living in them.
Coffin town, a real place.
I’ve seen it. Boxes drug out to the streets.
Locals won’t walk near.
So this part of town can belong to us.
Bad luck won’t even come here.
Up and down, the night a Merry-Go-Round
Night in Hong Kong.
Last light fading.
We’re on our way tomorrow… or tonight.
Something new is always on the way.
New, next to old.
As last light is fading.

Blue light
Falling downward
Soft
Clouds of light
Passing through
Passing out
Dreamscape has not come
Nor will it ever
This is the nightmare land
But here is where we roll
This out place
These nights
These shadows
We were cast here
Cast off
But we’ve made it our own
Made it our home
In the dark
Just above the light
In the shadow
Just behind the glow
This blue light
Our space
And you…
Just a visitor
So keep those eyes down
Know your place
As we know your face

They put perfume on the wind
And smoke on the horizon
Industry
People
Life
A cart in the street
A cat in the street
Brick
Roads
Path
Something on the wind
A place
A person
A time
It is sweet
Sometimes bitter
This place
Where they put perfume on the wind

We stumble on approach
In the dark
Just past the ravine
Of Time
And of consequence
Beat beat beat
It goes on and on
Lost tribe
Lost soldier
On the plains
A Mystic
A touch
Beats
Grey Skies
Coming down all around
Again
Again
And Again
We shout
Into the void
Into the dark
Past Barbwire
Past Ourselves
Past self
Dark Spaces
Come For me
Hauntings
Teachings
Lessons in this
The void
The night
The plains
War just beyond
Thunder as shells hit the distance
Thunder of man
Thunder of time
Then a silence
All around
A raindrop
A damp ground
A lost soul
On that battlefield
Of dark spaces
Lost faces
And lost times

City centre
We exist on the outskirts
A tower hangs near
In the city centre
A mass of buildings
A mecha
A place of stories
Their stories
For we are held on the outside
Touching the same sky
As does the tower in the distance
It haunts us
Haunts me
Memories there
Of another time
When we’d gotten inside
Not only of that place
But each other
And now we haunt different zones
Regulated to a quarantine
Self inflicted
We stand on the outside
Outer zones
Looking in at that centre
And it’s towers
A place no longer allowed to go

Collection box
Times of old
Times spent
In silver
Black and white
Torn with edges
Sometimes just torn
Innocence on her face
She gathers herself
Strangers watch
They prepare coins
For her collection box
For time travel
For a universe before
She sits, legs crossed
At the café
Somewhere in time
Maybe now, maybe then
Maybe not
Maybe nothing
But her
Her time
Her thoughts
And her collection box

Been in those woods
I’ve seen them before
Walked them
Dead as a ghost
To you
And this world
Dead white
Like snow on the ground
Like a spirit
Lost
I’ve been in those woods
Time and time and time again
Wandering
Lost
Bleeding
And where were you?
When it all came down
When it all fell out
In the cold
On that snow
Dead to the world
Where were you?
And now the time has come
Almost an anniversary
Of loss
Of the wandering
Of those woods
No trail there
Other men have made no path
Nothing forged
Nothing made
Just brush
And snow
Death
And me
Wandering
To come back again and again
To that time
To those branches
To be haunted
By all that has happened
And all that would come
I’ve been in those woods
And I know this
You were not on the path, nor the brush
You were not there
To help me out of this cold

Cold season
Lifeless
Under red light
Searching the past
Swimming through wet streets
Memories
Secret places
A snow falls outside
Maybe the last
Inside
A meeting hall
Faces of the lonely
Masked
Broken souls
Broken people
Like you
And myself
We search through the cold season
In our past
On those streets
Under red light
Behind red brick
I won’t see that
I won’t be there again
Only in dreams
In visions
In nightmares and memories
I remember the cold season

Words fail
Something
No longer firing off
Connection down
She bites her lip
Just a bit
I bide my time
Over and over and over again
Night has passed
The Year so fast
And still
Words fail
Intensions
Directions
Lost
There are no woods
There is no thick
Just me
Just the vaccum
Of what was
What will not be
What wasn’t
We’re all slowly shutting down
Dying off
Rotting somewhere inside
And even now
Before that big end
Words have failed