Watching clocks and making hay, skiving someone’s busy day. Beg an hour, taking two to mend a door and have a brew. It’s nothing new. Chilling winter evenings,
I’m vomiting colours - blue a deep aquamarine hue I’m hearing time pass by shuffling past the empty open door The night fills with your name dark, musk, but stale
How do I silence the scream? The long, unbearable scream that lives in my guts, my throat, my head and longs to pour out through my teeth. I feed it with cigarettes, whisky, sunshine and music.