Down the dark Downs.

A moonless walk makes a monotonous world;
A rest for the eyes.
Electric lamps a half mile away,
Stolen from the gods;
We swarm and huddle around them,
Cooking and eating our own livers.

Consumed by the cold, comforting night.
Around the slippery corner, and
The lights from the motels
Hit me, and the wind.
Is anyone sleeping,
Surrounded by these unnatural stars?
My presence incends another one,
The brightest;
Sorry.

Back into the woods,
30%; come on thighs.
Along the road.
19%; come on phone,
Back into the stale light.

Freezing fingers are worth the time,
In a hidden cavern of peace.

Torquay seafront at night

Orion over the Western towns,
Lights driving people to and fro,
String of striking blue, white, red, green.

The dark grey sea reminds us of its quiet menace,
Looking to be only an arm's length away,
Millions of pounds of white trapped until morning.

Cold, black wind.
Strained silence; thousands of echoed warnings,
Authorised by a lighthouse and his minions.

"Don't get too close!"
Worried parents,
Cautious skippers.

Rusted metal, once new,
Fighting the salt water with concrete,
Man and nature: who is crueler?

Orange-lit rooms for a cosy night,
Escapism bought with tired eyes and pensions,
"Leave it until morning, dear".

Dead, alone; perhaps
Resting, comforted.
What will morning bring?