Luminous

The light is cold, a lack-lustre unleavened white
threatening death, trying to burn eyes from their
sockets, a one-dimensional glare like a morgue
in overexposure; but with large, luminous insect
eyes I float in a soft golden world created by the
light-brown lenses of cheap sunglasses to over-
come the menacing ugliness of this destructive
building aimed at killing the soul and feelings of
all who dare work here, changing us into robots

I laugh at them, lifted by the honey-coloured light
of my own devise which changes everything into
a soft sandstorm in a desert, far from the laser-
sharp shards which used to pierce my heart as
I walked down the passage to make some tea -
now I’m protected from the insidious pain of cold
ergonomic space in the most lethal emptiness
mankind can create, oblivious of the emotional
and spiritual death they inflict on the living

[Friday 9 March 2018]