Humidity covers the many layers of you with dew, for you thrive like a succulent in the wet.

I expand and contract in accordance with the seasons. Sometimes, such as humid times, I expand, while in colder times I contract.

You thrive while I contract today. It’s your heaven and my hell.

Then, as if the sky knows who I am, the clouds break and the cool rain falls on to our skin.


A crisp lightness fills the spaces and brings a glimpse of spring to the winter day. I have nothing but you and my pain, which sets my mind racing.

A flimsy love between two independent souls, both longing for the rain to wash their sadness clean; two souls haunted by fear of failure, of not being the favoured child, of living with selves harder on themselves than any other person.

If money was not required in this capitalistic hell, we would be free to be ourselves.

I’m on the train now going to ruin my life again, but I have you through the ages; you and me against the world, ready to live once again. 

Spaceship Washer

You were never one to clean your shower regularly. Towels piled up and washers too, but you tended to the washing weekly.

There was this washer that you kept forgetting to pick up. Perhaps it was because the washer was so small and insignificant to you? You just kept piling towels, underwear, and clothes upon your hardened washer.

One night, you heard a noise coming from the bathroom. “What the hell! Is this a dream, or is the house alive and talking to me?

You stand up straight and turn the light on, but the buzzing continues. “Where are you buzzing? Are you a bee, or a monster from the tip?

A noise comes from the bathroom. You hesitate before you dare enter. Thoughts of strange monsters, lizards, and giant spiders terrorise you.

You walk through the bathroom door and turn on the light. You are baffled by what you see.  Your crusty washer is alive and floats before your eyes. No longer just a washer, it hovers like a spaceship. It’s buzzing and it wants to leave.

You’re baffled, so you run outside. As you run the washer follows and terror takes your heart. Once outside, you turn to it and see it fly away. No stopping it, as it takes off at a speed you didn’t know. 

Standing there, you stare into space wondering what you just saw. “My washer lived and now it’s gone. Is it because of neglect?

Once inside you drink a brew and ponder life’s events. “I’ll never neglect my washers now, or ever again.

Now your clothes are constantly washed and nothing stays on the floor. You never know where neglect may lead you again.