A cigarette in the morning
To get me over the night time
I forgot to sleep again
My eyelids live on high time.

It's fine I'll just play the guitar
Drink a cup of coffee or two
Walk along to my sanctuary
In my mind I'll write songs to you

A cigarette after midnight
To overcome all this silence
I don't want to sleep again
My eyelids wait for sunrise.

Another double expresso
Until my heart starts to echo
And then I'll stop and start breathing
How d'you get rid of this feeling ?

I'm thinking again of the morning
In the red of the wine time
This bed has become me
I'll get out of here sometime.

My friend.
You came into my room so distressed,
The musicians you loved had all been depressed
And you wondered if you might turn out the same as them,
Play the same sad songs, drink whisky and smoke.

With all the dysphoria took over compassion
Your clothes got expressive, you'd changed your fashion
You accepted you'd sit in you chair with old age
And read all the books, and imagine taking to stage.

But for now you sat beside me and said let's not be scared
You re-assured me of the life you most feared
Somehow this comforted both your mind and mine,
Dark looks for dark, it must be hard to be blind.

We shall meet again someday, you said. Doubtful.
As we walked past all the towering oak trees, so tall
And the more you had to leave the less help I could lend
Your violin still plays melodies which I can't quite comprehend.

If I were to write it would be about the women next door,
Or the child who sits alone in the school corridor.


If I were to write it would be about my dear friend
Whose secrets I know, whose heart knows no end.

If I were to write it would be about my mother
Her soft words of optimism, oh how I love her.

If I were to write it would be about my baby son.
As he grows, he will grow to learn the man he'll become.

I would write of my sister
Her brave face, her calm grace. In the dark she shines lighter.

I would write of my husband
The way we love and fight like a boat in a storm.
I wish he could keep me in his arms.

If I were to write I would write about heartbreak,
Because I know it too well and the sound that it makes.


If I were to write I would write about hope,
Because the boy left with nothing has to find ways to cope.

If I were to write It would be about goodbyes,
The walls people build, but you can see it in their eyes.

If I were to write, I'd try to write about what out loud I can't say.  

Even though I fear I won't put it into words properly.

I know life evolves but I stay still anyway,

And I'm scared  that my mind is eroding away.

Fur coats, Malboro smokes and fancy labels,
Fabricated faces closed off, segregated, false.
Pretending to be these people, these cloned plastic dolls.

Dark lips, skeletal figures and decadent glances,
Small waists, tall bodies and negative spaces
With hearts going nowhere, only lipstick traces.

You like to talk about people, about insignificant things
Not birds, or mountains or the potential life brings.
But just remember this: you will never tower over a mountain or grow any wings