I will not snap,but I will sail close with manic, meterosexual abandonment.I will smile for hours,like a man who has had a firm but enlightening conversation with his growing hair,confident and closed to critique,joyful and just the right side of smiling,not sinister, but safe, and sailing.

I need a cigarette,my weight in whisky and the love of a good woman,but I’m trapped in the cyclones of time.I shower in soapy water,solitude and the sad, sad tears of my spirits,lovingly watching the autumn leaves from the open window,ahead of their time like so many other things that I adore.I think, perhaps,I am…