Take me to the fields
where memories form
in rolling banks of bonfire,
torchlight, and dead-end riverbeds.
Pass smoke in a kiss
across the group,
blowing wind up your skirt
to satisfy a dream.
If I could afford this life,
I'd live it; where everything
is so endlessly free.

I am bitter in pills,
as they clench my jaw shut.
I'll feign a good listener,
if you'll brush your hand
against mine. Our high-wire
existence is based on lies;
the lie is out and now
we're all too tired of *******.
Just hold back on the cider,
if it  makes you feel sick,
or forget how to live.

What happened to
London? This new wave of thinking?
It turned to drinking
and a healing bruise;
waiting for trains to break
my mind-silence. I can't feign belief
in some new lover's meeting,
or a cure for dementia.
I'm sure I'll forget you
in a lifetime of drink.
I will hold you immortal,

as I set you in ink.