The day punched me like a thug.
In the blinding white canteen...

I wake
and it lingers...

Root yourself
just like a tree...

Nymph of the plaited tresses,
your eyes gleam like garnet honey...

Toil endlessly
for that sharp second of pleasure...

I a good borrower space.
just a body...

The wavering councillor
decanted diluted aid...

*VERSION 1- Secular
There is a choice...

I walk another dollhouse street,
and at the centre of that black desert road...

O-
it aches...

I’ll easily call a puppy a wolf.
Pain to me is that slight rash...

Weak Scottish sun streamed
and pattered...