If your happiness will not light your way, fill the lanterns instead with sorrow. And then watch the pathways glow!

The Bee Gees, 2045 Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a flesh/love interface device, no time to talk.

The corporate undead gather each morning in the foyer and reception area. It seems that one last human vestige remains: loyalty to the firm.

My tendrils and your pulsating nodules: a marriage made in heaven. Or, at least, in the laboratory.

Footprints (wet, from the shower) evaporate on the floor. Oh, my ghostly walker, where are you going this evening?

Memories flutter, caught on the razor wire of the fence. But half memories only, impossible to place. I imagine their owner, suddenly dazed by the past.

Digging a seam of gleam in a dream: a word stream.

Who put the spider in the tree above the tuffet? Who pushed Humpty? And most of all, which bastard aimed the blackbird at the maid’s nose?

The musician dreams, and the strings of her violin vibrate across the barrier of sleep, sounding their nocturne… Only to fade upon waking.

Here comes Doubting Thomas with his USB stick, looking for yet another flesh socket to plug into. Hoping for the true sacred data this time, a ghost of fire.

News from the Abyss: We’re still in it. Some people, I’m told, are even making a home there. They’ve decorated it with flags and ornaments.

The old trade routes are still visible from the air, coloured by flowers grown from seeds that floated away from caravans centuries before...

In the lens of your camera, a crack. How weird; only now do your portraits sell, making you as famous as the actors and models you capture, all those broken faces.

Should I compare thee to a bat signal in the sky? No, thou art far more bat-like, especially that weird echolocation of your voice.

I buried your ghost in dirt. It rose up. I buried it in cement; it rose up. I buried it in flesh, in my neighbour’s body. It stayed buried.

Day 1: an eye for an eye. Day 7: both your eyes for both of mine. Day 25: all eyes for all eyes.

As you jump from one dimension to another, please spare a thought for our Portal Operatives. Your well-being rests in their (semitransparent) hands.

Band seeks drummer seeks bass player seeks guitarist seeks vocalist seeks songwriter seeks lyrics seeks melodies seeks notes in the air as yet unheard...

The British Board of Shadow Classification has passed the following indistinct shape in the darkness as suitable for viewing by ages twelve and over. Parental guidance advised.

Thanks for reading!