Life seems fake sometimes. She looks fake, or is she real? She has a loving look in her eyes. She is looking straight past me.  Sometimes when I’m walking in the city I can’t tell who’s real. The people in their manicured faces and clothes walking to and from, or the ones dressed in shop windows going nowhere. We struggle to look like the mannequins in the windows and we have become them. Taken on 35mm Neopan 100 film…….

All the things that I needed
And wasted my chances
I have found myself wanting

When my mother and father
Gave me their problems
I accepted them all

Nothing ever expected
I was rejected
But I came back for more

And my ashes drift beneath the silver sky
Where a boy rides on a bike but never smiles
And my ashes fall over all the things we said
On a box of photographs under the bed

I will stay in my own world
Under the covers
I will feel safe inside

A kiss that will burn me
And cure me of dreaming
I was always returning

And my ashes find a way beyond the fog
And return to save the child that I forgot

And my ashes fade among the things unseen
And a dream plays in reverse on piano keys

And my ashes drop upon a park in Wales
Never-ending clouds of rain, and distant sails