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My feet are sore and your eyes are red The thoughts we felt have gone to bed Our anger burnt, the grass regrew Our faint and fleeting fancies flew..

Life is not held. Nor in a sieve nor vice nor womb, My tomb is full now as has been empty for eternity, Her legs constrain enflame engulf and pain,..

Winter past, Spring, still in blanket, Open jail cell

As over waves of ire and air The hapless wanderer fumes and foams, The joyous mind which free from doubt Can float untroubled through the world, B..

Flippant attempt to write on the demise of my old relationship

Think not you can arrive at your destination by going in the opposite direction

Chris Writing