The station Partings and greetings, laughter and longing, it's nobody's home, and yet it's always thronging. There's friends who shout curses, and foes who yell praises, standing beside skull faces grim reapers who meet you with daisies. Here it all happens, and there it's all known. This last stop you'll see on your journey home.

Sunday's I'm gaming inexpertly, all hands and no thumbs. She's four blankets deep, asleep with a dragon. The air is warm with lamplight. She sniffles, the nest shifting, a hand appears, is clasped, and fetches a smile. It's Sunday and it's late, endings are catching trains, but not for now, minutes are forever yet.

Meet and Greet They tell me you're a creative, ads and that stuff. Well more stuff than just ads. So what do you do? Mostly I sell- Oh really what stuff? Things you know, bits for the house- I have a flat. Right. So what do you do, do you even know? Really? Seriously. I suggest ridiculous ideas to talented people, on the bad days they laugh, on the good days they don't. So what day is this? I haven't a clue, but please tell me this, when did you last buy anything new?

Morning Some people rise against the moon, some jerk awake in alarmlight, some sleep in and suddenly scream. Not me. I am greeted by...

Old Lessons Look not for angelic choirs When I am borne on mountain winds. Stretch not your palms to seek me, for hands reach beside you....

Colour You cannot have green, for we have used green. Red is now out, because it is not for today. Blue is nice, we’re glad you tried...

Follow Chase blue through black trees, white ghosts dance and glow. A park stands between us. Wheels thumping, heart moving. Chasing a...

Gatekeeper Why are you here?  I lived here. But who are you? I lived here, two years, my home behind these doors, my days spent within....

The Routine Blue posts, same man. Day after day, pint after pint. Aged but not old, tired but not sleeping. Awaiting ‘a visiting friend’,...

Choices I desire the free choice of bad options.  The bed of filth in which I lie will be all the sweeter, for being my own Wrong...

Ghosts We don't lose friends, they drift . Time,places, plans, faces, they change, they fade. Yet we say nothing, as laughter leaves and...

Gallery A photo unneeded, it's subject ignored, repeated and repeated, captioned and deleted. All still unseen. Orange Groves I stood...

Rivers I never thought pigs could swim, yet there in midstream they wallow, all lights, sirens, and outrage, arresting the tides.

Movement I cannot ask you to want the horizon, or the wounds it takes to get there. I cannot make you believe the pain is the point, the...

Leavers Only an ending can define a beginning. The crystallisation of a story as the book covers close. Progress ends, the arc stops, one...