I must learn to create, I have to sing for her not at her. Or perhaps both.

Ok have to avoid blogging for a bit to rest and I can't sleep.

The old man sits on a bench facing the sea. He dreams of the love of his life sitting beside him gently holding his hand as they grow old together whispering in each others ears.

You can almost see her, even though it's only an old man's imaginings of a future that never was.

He walks back to his single room flat, closes the door and starts dancing to a tune nobody else can hear.

His eyes closed remembering how it felt to feel their skin collide gently through their clothes the silhouettes dancing around them, just that moment itself.

She's the love of his life. She's burnt into him.

They're going to force him to take pills that take her away.

I remember us dancing...

I know when I'm old and senile and locked
away in the loony bin for good I'll be dancing
with the most beautiful girl in the world.

No-one else can see her.

I've been choking back screams for I don't know how many days

And holding them in for I don't know how many years

His mind burned away as he lay on the bed.
The unforgivable things he'd done slamming so
rapidly he couldn't comprehend them tearing
away at everything that made him him.

And he was gone.


I'm here somehow.

I used to stalk you once every year at Christmas
just to make sure you were still alive.

Please be alive, please be alive.

I couldn't face you after what I had done.

I went bugfuck crazy. I wasn't me anymore
I didn't exist.

I'm sorry for everything.

I put you through hell.

Just, please be alive.

I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please be alive.

Oh god I don't care if you hate me

Please be alive