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

She blazes and burns a beautiful m… grabs life’s hand and drags it wit… Never too close, to love it wholly, Yet close enough,

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,

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

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!

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,

Etched, in the valleys of the moon, staring from or to. Blazing the night, The autumn heat returns,

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,

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

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

My father talked often, of what went wrong, who his father was, Who he is as a father, Long drawn out conversations,