In an earlier incarnation, Hayden Veil enjoyed a successful career in software engineering, writing late-night poetry in pursuit of sanity. On 2 February 2020, the world of Hayden Veil changed: Ghosts became real and with its soul laid bare there was no turning back from the perpetual path of poetry.

Vint-age

When “Vintage” start to relate to

your Peak, your Glory days

Embrace the though of

Age ; Aging ; Health ; and say

“Fuck that – I’m surfing the Peak

FOREVER!”

I fail

Tonight I was reminded

A memory suppressed and stored

In the back corners of an attic or

Country barn long lost

With everything new I attempt

I fail – epic f

At least once ; always

No wonder I gave up

Trying

No wonder I gave up

on life

#youth

THEY think this is how it is

THEY think nobody else care

THEY think grey colours the sky

THEY think the old defies the new

THEY don’t understand

Reality is what

You make it

Wanting

Shelf-less dust

Hovering

My bob defines me

Your fingers through my hair

Pinching my left nipple – hard

Hardly shivering

Your stare ; a scare

I melt ; shivering

Wanting all and

so much

More

Come

Come my minions

Come write my story

Come now before the …

… end is howling ; greeting us

Come now

Come

Maths Demon

The world demon flew

High above

Another truth revealed

Their eyes

In tears

Longing

The flag

In tatters

Hanging

As above

So below

The demon thought

Sighing

Abandonment twice recalling

Swearing never again

Falling

Swearing never again

Failing

Differential equations

The power of Maths

Forever ruling

Your sigh

Libido, drowning in my shower

Sexting / raw rays / spreading legs

Desire for shaven limbs

Wigs and

Your sigh

Whaddyuwannado?

Whaddyuwannado?

We can lipsync; read poetry out
loud while the rain pours down; washing the streets clean from weeks of dry conversations; you can ride on my back through the puddles I wade; my wellies leaking – your dreams echoing between the buildings we pass in the night. We are one, the poetry of that alone, makes me warm inside.

Nordic Dark #1

I love the Nordic dark

“Lost” – a fragrant

The solitude of an unlocked door

The echos of her polished shoes

Her silent whisper

Strangled

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