Brickyard stacks, fired by old coal slack
Cracks for through to wander
Chimneyed yards, prison guards, no turning back
Closed doors, wardens to close the conscience
Over out over the courtyard, marching unconscious
Prepare to sleep, to keep reaping their subconscious
Consigned, resigned to reflective sociology
Rote, rote together rote, rote on into my mythology
Stealing out over the exercise yard
Escape routes for to ponder longer
Staring out over, over waves for to wander
No turning back, nowhere is the space behind
Closed eyes, unable to close the subconscious
Staring out over sleep’s depraved unconscious
Evading sleep, risks run to keep
Creep to keep, to keep a clear conscience
Consigned, resigned to cognitive psychology
Theory, practice, hypothesis, group therapy
Mind my mythology
Staring out over, over waves
Over waves for to ponder, longer
Sandals, stepping softly; impressions on the land
Seashells, washing softly; crustaceans in the sand
Lovers, walking softly; footsteps of the brand
Brass bands, jazz quartets; Shakespeare’s in the park
Wind sail, skateboard trail; winter’s dunes and dales
Sands, parks, love after dark; hands held at sunrise
Emotions
Seeping softly
Emotions
Feel sand through fingers flowing
Emotions flowing to the land
Memories
Keeping softly
Memories
Feel to command, sparkle glints glowing,
Memories glowing bright and grand
Strangers
Parting softly
Strangers
Feel sand, washed up
Strangers, washed up by the brand
Sandals, leaving softly; depressions on the land
Seashells, crushing; crusted crustaceans stand
Lovers talk not softly, lover’s step’s unplanned
Brass lands, of ports and quartz
Shakespeare’s sister, blisters in the dark
Wind hail, broken rail; winter’s tale, of time and pail
Slander, snark, smothered by dark, hands open to fail
I don’t know what your idea of friendship means
I don’t know if being your best friend is what it seems
So I’ll try and dissect your words
Through my mind, if remembered they may reverb
You don’t want anything to do with being a couple
That solid statement’s forward, that’s not too subtle
You thought about counselling, decided too tired
You worked through options, except the lad I sired
You want for him to have a full parenting picture
You think it’s weak, not strong, to let me, let him be
You say; If we don’t have some contact with our boy
We’ll lose what matters, and then there’ll be no joy
So what does it mean exactly; best friend status
Do we progress, or second-guess our own hiatus
I felt clearer, although the cost was dearer
When we parted, not started, getting nearer
I can live with the parting glimpses of anger
Recollecting and putting blame, lapsing into languor
I think it is best, to not, not vocalise my thoughts
They may be off beam, for I am, I am out of sorts
Yet I don’t want to look forward, too many days away
Thinking friendship means love, with a body sway
I don’t want to waste any more years thinking it’s OK
No real understanding, not to understand as we say
When clearly it’s not so, for instance do you know
How you intend to befriend, or turn to love or no
If we don’t find out shortly, no use to pretend
Our loving, our friendship will both come to an end
No cards, no notes no late night conversation
It’s a funny kind of friendship without communication
There is no time left anywhere for making love
We do things that lovers aren’t ever dreamt to do
Wobbly
Strong cigarettes
Extremely cold water
Stiff, stiff drink
Touching your hand
Trembling
In sinking sand
Wobbly
One last time
