The sea of life


A dull day

The rough waves of the grey coastline

Pound the beach into submission

The seagulls bob up and down on the pulse of the sea



Dive for what seems hours at a time

Reaching the mirky depths

Their homes

Only to return with a sad expression


The young ones throw stones

At the waves

Angering them

They grow fiercer at the mockery

Spitting froth

A deep rumble

Within the ripples


The old ones search for seashells

Trying to pick them up

By the time they bend fully downwards

The tide is knee high

Seashells long since swept away

They forget what they were doing

With creaking limbs

They try to remember home


The ones stuck in the middle

Sit here in anguish

On the sand of the beach

At the futility

They feel in this place

The waves move ever closer

With empathy



Too many doors



I walk down a hallway

There’s so many doors to choose from

So many rooms, so many options

I had them

I almost had one

A single room



I move on to the next door

I’ve found it

This is the room I’ve been looking for

I leave, disatisfied

Too many doors

I leave the building

Through the exit

Where there is air



A conversation with my guitar

Tear drops paint the floor wet

I can see chords come out

From my guitar

It’s trying to tell me something

Something urgent

It can’t wait, it says

But I must not listen

You’re a guitar, I say

You don’t understand me

But I understand you



A photograph

I stare at the picture

I’m fixated on it

A moment captured

Forever lost to history

But locked in this single picture

I look deeper into their eyes

They’re most likely old

or dead

by now

So young and full of life

Such potential

so much to look forward to


I screw up the photograph

Into a ball

Throwing it into a bin


Only for it to be blown away

By the wind