Bedtime in Bournemouth

Some stay with me and become a part of my bio-chemistry she reads palms and tells me this. Ghosts kiss lightly and tread even more so, the dead know everything. I sleep to wake hoping the pattern won’t break but knowing one day it will. when I was six and sixty was longer than Christmas…

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Picking petals

I have it when I’m not with it then I lose track, looking back it was always thus, someone said, is it the hippocampus? now how the fuck would I know the answer to that? I take a squint at the small print, don’t see any clues, they’re just trying to confuse me like they always…

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