Doors open…

A million faces, voices without traces. 

Lives occupied by tube, regressed oppression

Realities lube. Doors open, doors close. 

Clicking heels shuffling trainers, skirts 

Too short, frown too long. Death clinging

In the air to skin, to hair. Lungs filling 

With someone elses dead skin. Everyone

Fantasising about anothers sin. 

Everyone fantasising about anothers sin. 
Karen Hayward ©2016 (image and words)