A speck in the universe’

‘A particle of dust’

                                                                                                                                                                                    ‘An old nail left to rust’

‘No offence taken!’, I nod. I agree with your thoughts. Inconsequential to the world. Inconsequential to me. I agree.


I feel

My mind drawn to my unimportance. Like a key word highlighted with a neon green pen.

I                                  intently                               watch                                     myself.

My feet on a stroll.

My slump on the couch.

My thumb on a scroll.

‘Fascinating…how she does nothing.’

Self-reflection on a perfect loop

The video doesn’t pause. My own personal hell bubble.


I disappear

The subject of no one else’s scrutiny. The rusted nail on an old shelf.

Functioning just enough to avoid replacement.

I am perverse.

My own voyeuristic gaze, intensely aware of every move I make.

Hands fidgeting, mind buzzing.  A spectator with no control. Sat alone in the velvet seat. Buttery popcorn, and fizzing soda.

2 and a half stars to Hotel California. An interesting protagonist, but there is no plot. Credits roll and there is no director. I get up to leave and there is no exit.

  1. Rewind.
  2. Rewatch.
  3. Criticise.
  4. Rot.

I sit still and she stands still, looking back at me through the silver screen. I wish I could reach her, and rewrite the plot. Enter her body and transfuse my thoughts.

But here I am. Consciously static. A rusted nail with a brain.


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