“‘ere your current bun”
What! my son...

My mind, my body, my soul,
is induced with a...

Water-coloured tears drip-
rolling and weaving through crimson twilled...

Nightmares
reoccurring...

We each have a story to tell,
whether mighty or somewhat frail...

Lying on my bed of dread
alone...

Nurtured and grown, from a maternal earth
An English rose had sprung, in full array...

Life has ups and downs
just like a roller coaster...

War!
War...

To all invitees and any other party entries
your cranky, calamities of collaborations...

Count Antony
I leave you in charge...

I really could not
think of anything to think...