drifting through mist
scouring the sand
looking for shells, pebbles
twisted driftwood
ancient treasures clutched in hand
skeins of seaweed
splayed on the beach
foaming white lace
i dance
out of reach

i can feel love
for a handful
of men
is it love?
or something
dilute
to feel this way
about 4
or 5

we do not "date"
or even kiss (oh but our eyes....)
we  
talk
laugh
sing
joke
together

i can feel love
for a handful of men
is it love
or something dilute

why do i ask

these are just words
i fling up on paper
sometimes in ink
sometimes in blood
and sometimes

in prayer

in the real and unreal realm
a good neighbour
you and i
the odd kiss
occational hug
there's nothing ****** in it
no frission
no spark
it's like the echo of something
that might have been
but never will
a good neighbour
you
and I

i don't want some media host
telling me what's what
and  “ do we approve of this opinion ”
and  “ do we approve of that ”
as if they have the right to question
everyone's opinions
to call it in as if it's wrong?
hold several vivisections
let's share our thoughts on media
on twitter tweet and 2 facedbook
then hopefully with this campaign
we'll all have the same look

the desire to be free
of other people
of a past that clings
often leads to acts
that pave the way to remorse
a path littered
with the rotting corpses
of other peoples dreams

daddy dear
getting all fired up
over the loss of a certain brand of whatever he likes
86
and this is it