Inside, outside, there’s no escape. Everywhere I look. I’m surrounded.

Who to trust? Suspicion consumes me. Where can I go, to feel safe?

I turn down an alley, hardly able to breath. Pushing myself into a doorway where no-one can see me.

But there is still someone watching. I still feel consumed by terror.

Who can it be? Where are they?

Then, a realisation. Me. I’m the observer, the follower, the spy.

Who to trust? Trust no-one.

Doubt all, even self.



© Neil Hayes and neilhayeswriter


Do you ever get a feeling? One that you can’t quite put your finger on. It sits there, at the back of your mind. Just a thought that something isn’t quite right, or not as it should be. A feeling of detachment, of disconnect. A suspicion that we don’t belong, that we are merely visitors. Sometimes suspicions prove to be true and the facts present themselves. During a brief visit you must use your time wisely. You must act, live. Stop dreaming and do it. But I have another suspicion, I already am.



© Neil Hayes and neilsworldofenglish