Ruptured Landscapes

Traversing through
other people’s tempers.
Carcass hills
of rotting imaginations.
Penned in
by insecurities
not of your own.
You break free
and shine again
in pockets of rebellion.
There is no community
only a sheep enclosure
governed by those
weak when alone.
There’s brilliance in disaster,
evil in too much happiness.
A surgical clarity
in sensing the bullshit
before contamination.
And rainbow-ing brightly
because and despite
of the seething nonsense
that endlessly follows you.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.