I’ve been looking under rocks
Scraping barrels, watching clocks
I’ve been been slouching
In dark corners
While withering my stock
What felt like thirteen lifetimes
Passed right through my very veins
While my mind created fiction
Grand and fanciful refrains
I could not find the instruments
To slay these blackened thoughts
But then I found the faintest flicker
As I took me for a gentle walk
24th Aug 2022
Today was not my unbirthday But still I think I’ll have tea I’ll ponder the number of years Which amass to greater than three I’ll sit and I’ll slowly remember The memories I didn’t forget And here in
It’s not about gender It’s not about class It’s not about sexual orientation It’s not about nationality It’s not about creed It’s not about the level of education It’s not about circumstance It’s not
Does she have a year, a month? Or does she have a day? And if she knew What would she change? Would she dress in lurid purple? Paint her hair a Day-Glo pink? Would she throw all at this Save the kitch