Why does he keep us? When will we ever be heard? What’s the point of filling these shelves? Packed, prominent but inert. 

We’ve become part of the furniture, when once we were front and centre. The most invested thing in the room, his entire world, his very epicentre.

He used to pour over our gatefolds, stare as we spiralled round, carefully replace us in our sleeves, introduce us to his new...

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its all there, writ on vellum

engrossed by time and fate

scrolled as wayward history

marks each and every date

familiar names and their sins

revenants of thirsts unslaked

wild love that soon withered

or cakes that never got baked

scars and might have beens

guilts and nameless shame

glories and fleeting trophies

won from life's hectic game

of late,...

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Quickly the ink spreads, running across the pages.

Making sense within their lines, keeping records through the ages.

Each dotted line and scratched out cross as important as the other,

To fill the tomes with thoughts and dreams, from cover through to cover.

Entire lives and moments can be caught and stored within these bindings,

Academics throughout time had a way to save their fin...

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