Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

England Underground

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Like any other day,

the sun rose not caring

that the earth would steal

its light, holding onto it like

like a frenzied mother

 

smothering her child.

Not caring that the streets

shimmered at its touch

but coaxing discarded,

 

tanned flesh to spoil.

he ennui

by feeding the future soil.

Unmoved by mannequins,

. Indifferent

to surrendered galleries

that decay, aided by

 

unchecked ultraviolet.

The sum of human

endeavour in dust

as the last man, tears

was our history’.

 

Picture Credit: © Steve Duncan / Barcroft Media

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