Thursday, 25 March 2010


Thoughts are drunk
the well is deep,
time passes
hides behind a mask,
day after day
freedom to reminisce,
words strung out
sipping cold beer,
sorting and processing
memories whirl out the door,
another day breeches.
in springtime
the river is high,
skin up
and drift to never never land,
I have no reason to be afraid
I have seen how light flickers,
I picnic from the ashtray
when all things are considered
I will end up being myself.
Closing time
laughter sizzles in the pot,
tomorrow I taste the future
everyone painting a different picture.

PICTURE by Keith Garrow.

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