Pylons
Pylons watching. Dead eyes. No eyes. They buzz like fridges (Karma Police, Radiohead. Search it up, it’s a good song) – but there’s no sustenance inside, just death; like detuned radios without music., Pylons stand as a guard, or a warning, or a threat, close to the ‘welcome to’ village signs. Their wires cutting the…
Yellow
The grass is all yellow. It crunches under my feet. I look up into the indifferent blue void. It’s summer, and I am … I am, under the black t-shirt and blue jean shorts, all yellow. It’s strange, but in a way I cherish this feeling. It is, paradoxically, comforting. That’s because I know it…
Voyria Doesn’t Give
Everyone wants to be Voyria. Voyria inherited in her twenties. She is still in her twenties. She spends her days scrolling through her phone: she looks, but never posts. She Just Eat s, but never cooks. She doesn’t care if the books she flicks through, or the music she has on in the background are…
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‘Glasshouse’ image by Liam Powell http://facebook.com/liampowellart
Morwenna Blackwood, Author 