Rua-Vasilis

Coils of wires collect dust beneath the desk A film noir of connecting cables thick with electricity, Filling the room with the stench of molten plastic, Inverted nooses fastened around the idle ankles Of the disenchanted who take to the faux leather hot seat. Blaring screens suckle energy through the umbilical wires, Throbbing with blue light and static clicks of mechanical parts; A lullaby for the masses, a demanding mistress for others.   A disorienting array of flashing nodes and spectral lights, of serial codes and encrypted programs Hypnotise and seduce the eyes, bringing a calamity of migraines, Lost tempers, bursting temples and ins

Disarticulated, the Professor’s prized Angler, With its bone jaw wired open in anticipation And hollowed stare, sits in its waterless coffin As an indispensable specimen, a trophy to one man’s prestige, Honouring the bearer of the plaque. Others, mounted by men of science in pursuit of knowledge and preservation Great bone white mammals forced to stand without muscle or flesh The circumstances of their death unknown Pieced together like calcium puppets in a circus ran by academics.

Out of the car and onto the street, Past communal bins and signs reading ‘No fly tipping’ Youths litter the skate ramp, swarm-like Clicking tongues like insects jeering, the clip of wheels against metal Of some whirling boy in mid-flight. Arms of wax, Icarus, he falls From the sky like a stone as flesh and bone hits corrugated steel And I wonder; Where all the birds have gone. The old, abandoned aviary, plastered fence of white and copper rust, wire mesh of geometric shapes, inside decaying plants and torn newspaper bedding, headlines just visible, With no birds inside. No sense of migration, no going south to a new haven A pa

What do you take me for? I see the string of lies Hooked around your rotting tooth waiting to be extracted, Infected by the blackened leer now waiting for me, Hoping I’ll bite so that you can reel me in, Catch me, see my insides, my emotions fly. One swing and I’m there in your net gasping for air. Slowly suffocating even though There is plenty to be had but you won’t share. Instead, you poison my lungs, dry them out, subject them to your filth. The truth is, I won’t bite. The bait you use to lure me far from tantalising, Like some contorted leach writhing at the end of a rusty misshapen hook. I am not the past-sp

What is sleep? Does the body cease to function To allow the mind free reign? Do we travel to another world No longer bound to a physical cage, Running through a cosmic door Which can only be accessed once 'Sleep' has been obtained? Do we exist outside of these shifting images? Since they are so easy to forget Are we also just as transient, as insignificant, Only able to live for the briefest of ethemeral moments? What is sleep? When we dream are we living, In the 'awakened space' perceived only by our deceitful eyes Are we already dead? When are we alive? Do we only live in the minds of those Who have yet to reach the state of Self-

Our beginnings were humble, Yet here we stand at the world’s end With uncertain hearts still longing For those fleeting, languid moments of peace Where our eyes could search the iridescent memories Hidden in the folds of our saddened smiles, Breathe in the sweetness of our laughter, And hold the light of our dreams like fallen stars Close to weathered, refined hearts Now scared with tender, moonlit whispers. This new axis on which we live, It will not last forever.

Hell comes swiftly burning, The flames lapping at my soul. Too eager to punish, For the lives that I stole. Stand before me as judgment, The gates of Death you are, Sword ready to strike me down, The brightest shining star. What do those god-judging eyes Wish to find within, What could you ever hope to find, When all you see is sin? Who resides in the light of man While I am cast in shadow? Murders, thieves, and cheats Who bask in that undeserved glow. Do not look down upon me From your paladin pedestal; I am not some wretched fool, Or the common criminal; My hands were forever tied, They knew not of any choice. This world brews evil And

I don’t believe we’ve ever met, No bells are being rung. You say you saw me last, That my name is on your tongue I’m afraid you do not know me, No matter how you may insist. Our paths have never crossed, The memories don’t exist You have seen my face before? Well then, that must be a lie. ‘How can that be so When the truth is in the eye?’ Perhaps you saw me, Sunday, When my smiles were few and far? Today is just a different mask Part of my facial repertoire. You knew the days before They were both true and false Yester-face is now redundant; Too cold and full of faults. I don’t believe we have ev

Consciously I am thinking about the weather The insistent downpour over my head. How I wished I had brought my umbrella To protect my freezing spine As each spitting dagger hits my already numb face Wetting me to the bone until even my skin Hangs from my frame Flaccid with acid rain. But subconsciously I am thinking of you. How your hand would hold mine, Never too tightly, with fingers intertwined. Idly letting me steal the warmth You so charitably gave away Like daffodil smiles.

From afar the mountains appeared like nothing more than snow-capped ant hills boarding the horizon, stretching from America’s northern coast to the south however, as the magnitude of their natural reverence came into perspective it was impossible to wonder what creatures burrowed and thrived in the shadowed crevices of its elongated face. It was as if the entire world could be condensed into one mountain range; at the foot of the central reach, where it was supposedly warmer, emerald hills and forests emerged. Each blade of grass bending lightly against an affectionate breeze as it travelled towards the lake which had formed between the