Jon Collins

Weird Weird is not a good place to start Invoking fear, and that which keeps us apart So, cloaking our true selves Pretending to be smart Choking on our thoughts and what lies

A gentle mist of rain falls No bird song, only breeze Fragile, moist, the moss calls Takes its moment Glistens in the trees Clammy warmth, from sky to soil Damp salve against the

Write of what you know, they said. So I wrote Of the voices In my head. 22/08/2022

Something, Anything Lines on a page lay low Faced with the weight of an empty soul Who knew that a vacuum could feel so heavy The crisp, 80gsm with its manufactured margin Red-lined,