Entering another place. A familiar, oh so similar place. A warm & wet embrace, & not enough tears to stain even the most gorgeous face. An out of place disgrace. Walking as our tongues are tied. All tell me something I didn’t do, & I didn’t know.
I defy the reasons you offer. Fronted up and fist brave, sold my soul and tried to behave. Lost the plot & found a shitty excuse that denied today. Yet in a good way. Nothing left to crease but my own page. I read my own story & it bored me senseless. The cover was better. More colour than words unheard. If I were a symphony I wouldn’t be more than an overture. Sure. Totally fucking sure of not much more. How many comments do I have to make to try and keep you all awake?