Moon. Late night June. Time goes by. Shooting stars…

i am almost good enough to hold onto things still, i should not own so many breakable trinkets…

How well do bears swim? Do they prefer fish or honey? What do they dream of on their long winter sleep?

What are these arbitrary lines, that crack our fragile world?

Cold. Unstrung. She lies, locked behind the glass…

With the sun blinking between buildings, and the birds with their feathers soft aflight…

I went out running this evening. It was later than usual; the sun had set…

What’s that? he said, on your chain? pointing…

‘Collateral damage’, which is tossed round like a parent’s beachball…

Like a fly, stuck in Amber, a living struggling insect trapped under a hard translucent skin…

Beige fades to grey on all the curves and nooks it flaunts and back to beige…

Crammed to the crags with its old stories, his-stories come alive and made theirs to consider…

Like little eggs on cedar trees, the upturned pinecones sat…

Clung on in defiance to the unthinking man’s brain…

For ‘I am right and you are fucking wrong’ to penetrate the pores of who you please…

To be or not to be, That’s still the question. Whether tis manlier in silence to endure the regrets and fears of oppressive existence or…

Enter in, peel back the matted present varnished and taped, like the clasping hands of bark on a tree, rent to reveal history in spiralled stamps.

One day he just couldn’t understand, So thought he shouldn’t and he wouldn’t…

I wake up, dazed and alone, I guess this is how it feels when I am home, I lie in my bed and stare at my phone…

Now so long, Leonard. It’s time that we began to talk and see and see and talk about it all again…