Darkness of a summer’s warm night, but, Stars so bright, so clear, Looking up for the moon and no it isn’t there. Not till later, not till I want it to be I think And I look back … in anger no. Anger is not in this vocabulary. Fear and loss yes in my own lexicon, emptiness even. Yeah … you know the feeling. We have been there before. You know. Between loss and sorrow? That old one way street. One track mind, as usual, as bloody usual. Yea always. Visiting lovers graves, long gone … Oh yes long gone. Disappeared long ago into an ever more black and white past And yet Still I want my moon to rise And always it does To let me grasp it in my hands, and such hands? Anonymous unfeeling hands of gold? No. And God? No gods. Naa… no one up there on the millionth floor loves me. Cos I never woke up and smelt bloody coffee, not once. Don’t need caffeine to torture my mind further. Never have Does it on its sweet lonesome. Pain without stimulus. Stimulus without pain? Yea I can live with that. Not easily. Not simply…. But alone.Sometimes.
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