Skeleton walks into a pub
Orders a pint of Guinness
And a mop.

poetry is the quiddity of me
it is so intertwined with my soul
that it is woven into my heart
I could never abandon this
it is my other half
it is me
words flow from my mind
and onto paper or a screen
it is part of me
poetry is the quiddity of me

The small indicators of life;

hidden in the mist,
benevolence—
as seen in the
messy
fingerprints.

Giggles unveiled,
in a momentary glance—
as the glass is fogged,
a smile,
is caught by chance.

A small indicator of life;
minuscule,
if you will,
but even still—
love is found,
in corner-seat windowsills!

I was yesterday
for sure
I'm today
in doubtful evolution -
tomorrow?
I don't know
all else is
pure speculation

This is the heart
of the matter:
reason will not save me-
only humour

the former confuses
the latter is that which nourishes:
life has many a dimension
reason is to humour subservient