Your small talk
Was an atom bomb
Talk of the weather
Something odd
I could hear a roaring then
Saw a mushroom on the horizon
And a whispering came with along it
A terrifying thought, as I walked
Hope it's the just withdrawal noia
(You will hear from him no more)
The whisperer did not gloat
Just a thank you
And that was all

"What's your name again?"
Expression drops off a cliff
A free fall of unexpected hurt
It covers the face like a cloth
You can see the shock
Distress and a loss
And after this dissipates
The manner has changed
You did not take the time to care enough
To put their face to their name
You did not try hard enough
(You are a social disgrace)
Who could forget their mums birthday?
Unfeeling, uncaring lazy brain
"I'm really sorry, I'm bad with names"
The lips snap shut on my excuses
(Ive got dispraxia, nothing will help)
But the light has died now anyway
All but gone out
Numbers and names = love
And my heart is not good enough

It is a ghost
It has no twitt twoo
Instead an alien sound
Immits from the spooky beast
My spine shivers
As if this strange
Voice from the other side
Is calling you;
An eerie guide
From just above my head
In the corner of the eye
Movement on the velvet sky
Not a whisper
From those fine white feathers
Hushed is it's flight

Expression twiddles its thumbs
Waiting for observation to avert
So it can freely hang off the bones
Rest and decompress
With a bit of solice
It can begin to unveil
From a contented painting
Depicting a face of rest
It is an imitation only
I've crafted this mask
It has given me some peace
At first it did create something
Others wanted to see
But the layers of each new portrait
No longer give the old relief
They weigh on the authentic
My general countenance is not me

With each new cup
I worry the well is not deep enough
That I will go there, pale in hand
And find a rancid smell
A frayed rope
Peer into the enigmatic hole
And find I've nothing to tell
How will I placate you then?
If my fount runs dry?
What if your mistaken?
What if I am nothing inside?

"Dr Dr we need to amputate!"
I prayed for this
I cannot wait
The extention of you
Connected not by some meaty chord
But by some insidious force
Now I see it
And with it you
Exposed to the most obvious truths
Here I come to cut it off
Hack away
A hatchet job
Each new year my distance grew
And I've recovered without you
I found your secrets
I know the cure
Your words are poison
Spit on the floor
Hope springs eternal
Hope dies last
I'm not a part of you
Your a part of my past

Willow trees make me happy
I have them clocked
Two on my journey
I am begrudging if I forget to look
There's one in St Beaudox
Another closer into town
I sit up and watch them go by
They deliver me a smile
And as I pass them I recall the sensation of the slender bendy bark and leaf
The shade and feel of passing on my boaty beneath
And on this bus I realise
Five days a week
That I miss the waterways
The river and canal
I miss my boat, my water gypsy life
My heart is not happy
Without weeping willows