Im in works, a suit of rough armour,

Crackled shins, sticking through and tight ruzzled beard.

Interior haze won't dance in sunglasses anymore.

Days daze and amaze twenty people at every

sight, moonlight

and wrong.

It’s in my heart, but it's not a song.




That’s what I say, and she stays and comforts me. Morning wakes up next to her from the night before. She strokes my hand, I let her, because I’m still dumb. How would she understand.