Scotch at sundown. Good cat on the chair, and then green light I know will be there for me in the bedroom. Cars and self mocking subjects with the fumes of sleep not far away. Paradoxically I think another drink will just allow the bottom of the page to become reachable...

What do the dots mean? You know We know It's possible. And maybe you can participate in this thought too.

Not wanting to carry on like a stony upward path near moors near Langsett. With a forgiving friend that walks as well as runs too. But not too well for me to fall behind in the chat chat chat of miles to go before I drink and miles to go before I drink....

A piece of bread to soak up spirits to their full height?
Not quite

And I'm always frowning always at the paper and at you
I do not mean
To

You see?

the bloody rhymes they get in without me wanting (and also wanting)
The clever trite win of sound like sugar hit that ashames me after
Drinking down the self congratulation of a chime of words


And there it is
The stone of end at the top of the page and the last thing we might see
If breathing
Stops.