A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.
Shackled to a yearning, Dripping face chin to the earth, Not buried yet, Nor glum nor trite, Earths pleasures,
Oh dreaded day, bring light! Nothing less than the beauty that you are, The whispers and winds in mind, Shackled, deranged, slightly mad,
I couldn’t think, of anything worse. From the outside, Looking in. Draining your soul away,
It’s the end of winter, The sun has migrated, Finally full circle, The weeks are the same though, sti… as I drive home,
I look out over the expanse of the… the lights forever glisten, gauging the distance between every… in houses with cutlery now clinkin… 7pm and maybe conversations.
Etched, in the valleys of the moon, staring from or to. Blazing the night, The autumn heat returns,
The doubt of spring, makes winter warm, when all is cold is now gone, The sparkle of night, and the seasons change,
The port city and it’s secrets, The Sicilians drapes hung in the… The ghosts beyond the limestone wa… The sad holy brush of James Walsh… The sanctity of the unknown,
Wake to the sun on fire, a wandering wisp of a dream, In it’s forgotten desire, a candle… as a sonnet sings sentiment as bri… What is a plum situation,
It takes balls, hell, it takes every inch, to keep spinning. To talk of flowers, or the death,
She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,
To sin enough, is to sin forever, shine dull nor pure, but fear!, fear the end. Does it end after night, or at the end of the day!
There’s not enough time, Not for seeing the world, no no But feeling alive, To hold your friend when they weep… For being in a hole,
You have to, jump in with the sharks. They won’t eat you, unless you let them. You dodge and dive,
