Here lies the absurd; stifled under a carpet of loneliness, whispering in the reeds of your hair.
Here they long for limbs which behave; for emotions which control and for actions that cry.
Hear them sing from the bowels of a church; like strung-up alley-cats, like foxes parading the bins.
Hear the delicate fall of manicured nails onto ceramic surface; as you cut all of life, from legacy.
Leave nothing, they say; save nothing, they warn; learn nothing, you find; say nothing.
There is a dance that leads to emergency surgery; it climbs to your soul; it eats your feet.
Their lives have depended on distance; when eyes meet again they dim like gas; they weep.
They’re not ready for you, nobody is; because if your heart starts the dance you are given away.
There on the horizon where your fingers can’t touch; a promise lies, broken into the sandy glass.
Say something, she asks; do something, he demands; see something, they spy; lose something.
Zac Thraves is a writer and performer based in Kent who has grown from a deep love of movies from the 80's. He has some fiction books available on Amazon and has most recently found success with poems, which is another love. Zac lives with his partner, has two children who he used to read to, yet now reads and tells stories to audiences in the South-East as his children no longer require a story...for now.