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Tuesday: "The Drift" by Sean

Sleepless nights, endless streets, minds that wander empty corridors, dreams recalled on feedback loops, eerily silent, alone with strangers, a sense of wonder betrays all fears, and when I speak, still silent.

Who dares disturb the universe? Futile humour, a humourless futility, another day’s chores, tentative (always tentative), the pen stands weak-kneed before the sword, the masterpiece unsigned.

Lonely crowds, this crowded loneliness, pity these faces in the metro, indifferent smiles, more sex without touching, we are invasively dreamed upon, fondly recalled, and later forgotten as the orgy that never was.