The noise

they did last week and the week before, damn them creaky floorboards and damn my hide if my bones inside aren’t creaking too. something to do with age they tell me, but I never heard the pyramids creak did you? It’s Saturday and early, where will we go later on? to the Lyons corner house…

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Realisations

The love poems that I should have read to you, those words wrapped in roses never sent to you and now it’s too late to present to you my heart on a platter of gold…

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Territories

I am trying not to sleep as much as what I used to do and in trying this to stay awake my thoughts return to you and in the thoughts alone a thousand days flash fast before my eyes the screaming wheels and that’s how torture feels when no one hears your cries…

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Granny’s place

She lived by the mountain on the far edge of the world which was where all the old people were sent and spent here her days doing things in those old lady ways, you know, primly and properly and she made me lilac tea on the days that I visited…

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Formica forever

First things first because that’s how I rolled. I don’t like new things and I don’t like what tomorrow brings. I don’t like new people, I like old. I like people who are stitched up with some history, sewn into stories they’ve been told and held together with Sellotape smelling of ‘Wintergreen’ I’ve seen new…

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‘In the French style’

Seberg (mon amour) from the Novel by Shaw, flawless direction by Parrish rich and my heart once vaguely unruly becomes lawless meet me down in Montmartre let us sip absinthe and talk…

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