This place is really growing on me. I’ve seen a lot of what I’ve learnt from past examinations of this city that’s kept in my database. It’s hard on the days I leave, however. See I’m not always here – I AM still physically there, but I’m technically just not there. Sometimes I’m tied up in a boat – other times I’m sat on moon rock. Or in the fields, or on a big park. All these places I enjoy visiting every so often, but one in particular – The Other Place; I don’t enjoy going there. I don’t know where it is, and it’s an impossible place to describe. But I decided to piece together a poem, written right after returning from The Other Place to try and find some clues about this place.


The Other Place

Bodies, bodies all around.

A man, a mask, with bloody hands.

Another world awaits again.

I feel the shift start to kick in.


Falling through mind’s array;

Head asleep, mind awake.

Turns – turns; needs to burn.

Keep heart alive.


Trees turn white,

Cold cold seat,

Sun fluorescent light.

Hearing wheels, feeling haze

Minutes lasting days and days.

All I can do is wait.

The Surgeant will decide my fate.


Bodies, bodies all around.

From wall to wall; ceiling to ground.


Johnny x

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