I remember youth and senses, the smell and touch. Fascinated by breathing, in and out. Sunday walks,

The doubt of spring, makes winter warm, when all is cold is now gone, The sparkle of night, and the seasons change,

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,

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,

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!

It takes balls, hell, it takes every inch, to keep spinning. To talk of flowers, or the death,

Brush teeth, Planes overhead, People I’ll never meet, Some words just dance, your words dance.

She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,

You have to, jump in with the sharks. They won’t eat you, unless you let them. You dodge and dive,

I couldn’t think, of anything worse. From the outside, Looking in. Draining your soul away,

A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.

We are like pebbles on a beach. Brought by the tide, yet not born from it. Sitting, and waiting,