for the majority,
can feel like inhabiting a waste land.
The great rolling hills of the beautiful British countryside,
which linger in the imagination,
remnants of more fortunate times,
Their once fertile swathes undulate under the pressure of throbbing cities.
The land moans
with painful swelling pustules
as it’s bled dry of its sustenance.
Each morsel reaped
is pumped up and out of the ground’s pores
onto the banquet tables of the indulgent.
They regale each other with hearty laughter,
feeding and bloating from the fruits of others labour,
snarling and spitting their big ideas into each other’s ears.
The residue from their lips,
falls into the gutters
that snake around the very edges of the polished floor.
Seeping through the neat exterior layer,
passing through the epidermal ridge,
the residual scraps trickle down
and nourish the under layer
the best they can.
Ease yourself into a comfortable position,
under their weight.
Find solace in the knowledge
that this cannot last.
Images are from Cynthia Wong‘s Part of the Whole Series
I am also interested in collaborative projects with a focus on creating immersive environments.
I use writing as a medium for social commentary and critical thinking.