The confusion

If it's a stamp of approval don't seek it, if it's a challenge to be met don't greet it, if it's nothing but confusion embrace it, for it will unravel and play in a way that teases and tickles and keeps the clock chasing.

The space

Where is the quiet of the cave where we make our everyday memorials, where we finally find our silence. If it exists as a space within ourselves is that a space we seek to never find?

The constants

Some things remain constant amidst a sea of ever changing tides. These constants are the everyday hooks on which to frame adventures, plant the seeds of time, capture the secrets and liberate the threads of endless imaginations.

The shape

If this is the shape of things to come, the future could make us all square. Unless ofcourse we decide to be oblong. But if there's room for triangles, maybe we'll finally be able to make a point.

The day

If today is tainted by an ensemble of yesterdays then what can we make of tomorrow that we could not make of today?

The plastic

Crawling, swirling, surging, hustling, a sea of furrowed brows in an over egged promised land. When the plastic's taken over an already burning town, surely the meltdown has begun.

The circus

The fuzziness persists, the awakening never comes. Another myriad of forms and features await. They will dazzle and jive in a performance with no interval. Just another part of the incessant, relentless circus.

The reel

Take them to town and show them the reel but when the spell has broken don't look back forlorn and think that repentance will heal the seams of their souls.

The certainty

Keep it at bay but do not dare to lock it, for the act in itself will leave it wailing and will free it once more.

The veil

As the wind ushered its entrance, the veil of melancholy took up its merry dance. Like a swirl of nostalgia that cannot be quashed, it took to the tile and cast its constant shadow.

The something

If you believe in something believe in nothing, for within nothing is something and only when it is over will everything begin.

The knowledge

If I knew now what I didn't know then, perhaps I might have known what knowledge was for.

The catalogue

This is the catalogue of the weak and the wreckless. Of the top downs and bottoms up; of the moving forwards and the pushing backs. This is the gibberish of which they speak. I’ve been inside their abodes. They are havens for the dull and the lifeless. Their spectrum of clichés linger, like litter, across every hall.

The monsters

I can talk about the insides of these monsters again and again but something tells me exorcism won’t come. They have crept under the surface and the seal is tight. At least until the dreaming begins. Sleep is now the purchase of a nightly ticket showing the pains of the past. The mind is a harrowing hollow, its pain never staying in one spot. How low it will go in its quest for glory and just as I give in and whince, it chortles with glee.

The shrine

This was the morning altar. The shrine to which only the holy entered in a quest to cleanse their soul. Expressions inside suggested results were slow. Perhaps the only things cleansed were the small ever elusive digits of an online bank account.

The measure

Everything has a measure. The breaking point for that measure is some form of resistance or catalyst that often comes with no warning or delay. It comes from nowhere, has no source and is like waking up. For the first time.