Panic everywhere no control Afraid of the unknown or even the familiar Different faces watch them carefully A convulsion of the lungs high alert
© Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites
Inside, outside, there’s no escape. Everywhere I look. I’m surrounded.
Who to trust? Suspicion consumes me. Where can I go, to feel safe?
I turn down an alley, hardly able to breath. Pushing myself into a doorway where no-one can see me.
But there is still someone watching. I still feel consumed by terror.
Who can it be? Where are they?
Then, a realisation. Me. I’m the observer, the follower, the spy.
Who to trust? Trust no-one.
Doubt all, even self.
© Neil Hayes and neilhayeswriter
Worn, torn, used, abused. Belongings that tell a story. Every scratch, every line, shows life. The character of a thing, etched into its surface.
Looking back, in years ahead, these signs of use can bring memories shooting back, sometimes in startling detail. And it is then that we can be glad, that we weren’t too precious and used the thing for its intended purpose.
© Neil Hayes and neilsworldofenglish