A ***** in eternal quest after love
Halting in and moving out from shrine to shrine
Until he merges with Love beyond all shades and sheen

If I was born in a different place
When I look in the mirror would I see the same face?

If I was born in a different time
Would I still be yours, would you still be mine?

If I was born in a different place
Would I still be a thinker, able to think free, would I still be me?

If I was born in a different time
Would we still have married travelled the world, would we have 3 children that make us very proud?

If I was born in a different place
Would I still step outside for a run or would I find some other form of fun

If I was born in a different time
Would we have 3 Grandchildren to give us joy, 1 beloved girl and 2 darling boys

If I was born in a different place
Would I be proud of who I am or would I be a disgrace

If I was born in a different time
I would have missed so much that I can now call mine

I didn’t know it at the time
The bench seemed more a subject
A reminder to sit and look

Ease one’s load
Reflect upon the day
Reach for plumbs unexplored

Years later the memories were revived
The day we saw the bench

She and they
Strolled leisurely
Quaint small exhibits of musty furniture
The rickety interior of the old stone manor

Please, can you take our picture?
Here.  Use my phone.

We were on our way home
Through the garden path
Unflowered in the early winter’s dusk
Brisk but not too chilly.  The cold would come later.

Waiting, alone, I chanced a shot
The composition was
Just OK.  My fans said “good”.  I, “no not”.

I now recall the view
From behind the porch
Looking upward at the stained
Glass dormer
Halfway between the house and the bench

I remember that day
When I saw her.
When I was able to see her.

oh snap.

guess who's back?

I'm one step closer to a heart attack.

these flashbacks drawn from a cutback, turned me into an insomniac,
twas only a matter of time until I had a cardiac

arrest me now, officer. I've done you all wrong.

'cause my heart lying in my breast no longer plays a loving song.

I'd love to play the rest, see who else would try and sing along,
but I best not cause more distress, I know where I belong.


this girl KC.

man, she's killing me.

thoughts grilling me, yeah they drilling me!
this thrilling feeling's chilling me to the core, like it's refilling a sea

that just won't quit. My anchor's heavy as ****.

my head's split a bit, teeth grit cause I'm full of these images of misfits, and culprits
whose crimes I didn't know they could commit-
they're all me- I'll admit I don't have a permit to

park my *** in this waste of mass class.

just mind the sass, my ego's thick as thick glass, and I don't have the strength to be harassed (rn).


hold up
>>Boi

I don't got time for this.

I need help, man, tell me what to do, I'm ******.

this story's this; I miss the abyss in which I could hiss at KC's every bish she brought home,
reminisce that shish in whish I could blissfully talk about french kissing her.

but now I got me a man.

but now she back I've got no game plan.

tell me can you show me again how life is more than her?

make a run to  st patrick's
put a dollar in the church box
light a votive candle

dreams stay with you
like a lovers voice calling
from across a crowded street

or an old friend that never leaves

in the darkest night
every bar stool is a wish
every robin sings a prayer
every drop of water sells a dream.

a pond or a puddle
add a thousand tears
spill a river into an ocean

in an outstretched hand I put a dollar.
he shoves it into his pocket.

the drop of water