Southern Cemetery

Southern cemetery in Manchester is where my fantasy story begins and where over 400,000 rotting corpses lie and with them tales of Mancheter's dark and glorious past:

 

Tis a dark and damp and dismal place,

Where spooks and snarks and gremlins crawl, 

Don't look away, no not at all,

Lest out they jump and down you'll fall!

Shall I compare you to a death?

Of lost love and living lost.

A lie of denied heart-tugging’s, oh

how did we become so

unable to be who we are, and

 

this wrenching of the soul,

what spiteful spirit lies

within to render me so lost

it must be love, though

 

I doubt so I search and

see her eyes sparkle and

I am hooked as though

from an injection of China

 

White and I stare at the abyss of

my own murder in the caress of

her lips that grip me

stronger than a python

ever could and I am left

feeble and idiotic only?

 

A victim of passion

dreading the snapped heart and

tears and missed possibilities

and feelings of utter failure hit

 

me, yet I would die for her

crush cities for her

but truly dare not

tell her how I feel so

 

I am destined for tragedy

destined for regret

destined to wonder ‘if only I’.

 

Of lost love and living no more.

The factory

 

Smashed windows

Toilet smells

Pigeons nesting high up

Dead faces shuffle around

 

A dead body

I’ve scored though

I lie back

The pain fades

 

Numbness, bliss

 

A fight

Couldn’t care less

 

I gaze at the roof

Demons jump about

Shadows play tricks

A trickle of saliva

 

I lie on card

And drift in

And drift out

Then gone

 

Hours gone

My trainers gone

 

I get up

Hungry again

Ghosts drift by

Night cold bites

 

Walls shield little

Doors open wide

 

My tomb one day