A gentle ache of dehydration and lost innocence pulls at my temple;
a bitter smell of wooden tobacco lingers, stale at my fingertips.
The tug of disappointment on my brow and the salt of disappointment on my cheeks and the bruises of intoxication
Cruel unending echoes of steely lyres ring on the indifferent and obnoxious nocturnal streets.
Its happened again. Again it has happened and will happen.
The rise of a nourishing sun may heal but cannot always sustain and they won't heal you. You can heal you.
Happy Birthday Dear Marcus Happy Birthday To You
But don't cover your soft skin in mud and iron and deny yourself the warmth of silky woven rays of Happiness; let the water run and the music reach and the people in
Don't forget them, remember the heat and the teeth and the lips and watch them fade away, and they may, they will,
Stretch your legs arms and mouth and sing because you're open
Pushed and jostled and flicked and turned and open
Toil over the admiration perhaps
LET the insomnia come and go and go
A sharp jaw and a scar
A lost laugh but never far