Oh dreaded day, bring light! Nothing less than the beauty that you are, The whispers and winds in mind, Shackled, deranged, slightly mad,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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,

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

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!