I write
for the sake of writing
not for the sake of being read
that said
...
could do with a bit of cheering
this bunch of broken branches
sweep away in silliness all sad sad souls
lingering in the corners of this song
...
please, I beg of you,
let this be the last
time
the last thing you ever
...
fear not
the change that is coming
nor grieve the days
that have passed,
...
there was a thought
that made me angry,
nothing to do with your words,
just a fantasy, or a fallacy,
...
I have
the whole of this bed
the whole of this room
and I turn and I turn
...
I imagine a gypsy curse
being placed upon my head
as I refuse to give
an empty bottle
...
taking this path
way left too long
found and lost all over
again
...
silly is it not
to seek meaning
where meaning is not
whether lost or found
...
sometimes
the distance is more
sometimes the distance is
less
...