shooting ducks at a fairground attraction cracking nuts at a Christmas reunion
I am losing it, all is confusion as the morning light shines in my eyes
It's a colourful paint can.
Under ten million or more twinkling thinking of stars being born being torn being worn like a sleeve on my heart keeping lovers apart
at some point somewhere deep inside where the itch of a memory resides and a wider horizon give a different opinion to the one you expounded you had to scratch it so it bleeds and it's horse **** you should have left it for the roses now your nose is in it
the stars twinkle thinking we're dull and I feel the pull of them the night is so full of them
in all of the wishing in the well where the wishes of happiness dwell
there are more wishes
more than a million or more.
I watch them winking at me as they wander the celestial sea each coming to its conclusion
One day unencumbered by self doubt or confusion I shall twinkle too.