How  do  the  tourist's
know  I'm  local.
They  are  always  stopping  me.
And  asking  the  way  to  the  lake.
Perhaps  It's  because
I'm  walking  on  my  own.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Get drunk and call me darling

Even when I tried
No one really knew
Who I was inside
What I knew was true

Everything's not funny
Everything's not true
All the lies I live
Building up in you

The pain I feel inside
It reminisce on the outside
Who you really see
Isn't really me

I am not all that funny
Nor do I try
I am truly oh so shy
Don't just pass me by.

Every inch of vivid skin
Each folicle, each hair
Could this be my destination
Tucked in under your arm
It's such a beautiful sin
Hanging on to your last breath
All the worlds tranquillity
My life hangs on to it

Oh if only you could see
These friends were meant to be
They take their time
Sealed with a stamp
Off to a new country
Seas and time means no thing

I'm a roamer
All I know is how to run away
There is no place I feel safe to stay
The need to be one move ahead

Maybe it hurts more
I am learning how to hide
No desire to reveal myself
Maybe I'm more empty

I find home in love
The delusion that it will be my all and final
A destination in which I can unpack Then I break again

Words like knives pressed to my throat

The music was loud
And so was she
Even though no words
Could be spoken

He saw her dancing
From across the room
However her body
Hadn't made a move

They knew it there
Through all in the air
This was all
This was real

Together they stayed
Forever in that moment
Forever they were
Forever in love