I hide here behind a genuine misbelief that I am special, I am different I and only I

A sudden gust of bitter wind from somewhere hot and foul, whooped and howled throughout the scattered waste and scrabble down that God-forsaken alley.

Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.

Sweet Mary Jane bade me follow where she led. I went eagerly. She was my life’s one true love. All the others,

This trembling grief is for a long lost soul, a young, guileless child I once knew as me. I truly believed

I am awash with tears of mourning for what I thought was dead and go… as though a flood of holy water has broken through the stony dam I contrived to spare this brittle…

I read such woeful words penned by a fallen brother; his message cut me deeply. He prayed to all that’s holy that he might cry again.

These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.

Time wears away at me, like water on a stone, oh, so slowly, but inevitably, drop by drop,

Come out, come out, wherever you are. I know you’re in here. You dirty little secret.

Listen. There it is. The hum of perfect silence at the centre of all that is, and isn’t.

I see no reason now to disguise this naked heart and soul of mine. You can hide there