are
a
disguise
for
thought
and
intention
setting
sun
shone
on
wet
pavements
turning
them
into
sheets
of
molten
gold
steam
vapour
rising
why
do
the
vulnerable
always
put
themselves
in
the
firing
line
men
will
work
very
hard
for
good
money
but
kill
themselves
for
love
bitter
coffee
the
thought
of
you
passes
across
my
tongue
love
subject
to
friction
will
wear
out
as
even
the
sturdiest
of
fabrics
do
infinity
supreme
ironist
offers
no
answers
merely
hollow
laughter
lights
from
the
shone
garish
and
lurid
in
the
early
evening
light
intellectual
awareness
does
not
equal
emotional
acceptance
a
cold
wind
slants
rain
in
from
an
iron
sky
dirty
ocean
churns
pebbles
and
shells
onto
the
sand
where
ever
you
go
you
leave
some
thing
behind
and
take
some
thing
with
you
why
go
to
half
measures
when
your
closer
to
the
whole
the
sun
rose
pouring
liquid
golden
honey
through
the
window
when
you
lie
awake
in
the
not
quite
dawn
fears
loom
like
shadows
tall
the
woods
cool
and
dark
filtered
green
light
streams
down
through
leaves
a
solitary
bird
call
echos
sunset
the
landscape
saturated
with
light
a
colour
transparency
a
full
moon
shines
dusting
the
grass
with
silvery
light
motes
seem
to
ripple
and
swim
in
streams
of
sunlight
you
twist
and
turn
drift
away
like
smoke
we
dance
in
primitive
ingrained
patterns
the
persistent
repetitious
mating
ritual
despite
the
evolution
of
speech
we
communicate
more
instinctively
with
gestures
looks
and
silences
these
seldom
lie
as
words
often
do
depression
a
black
mass
swells
a
tumorous
growth
on
the
brain
cottages
straggled
up
the
hill
like
sheep
sunlight
sparkles
on
polished
leaves
rinsed
by
the
rain
does
the
butterfly
remember
the
caterpillar
golden
daffodils
dipped
in
sunshine
headlights
move
across
the
horizon
a
star
arcing
over
nights
sky
woolly
white
clouds
suspended
in
air
cotton
balls
on
a
backdrop
of
blue
the
ocean
spread
out
all
ripples
and
billows
a
sheet
in
the
wind
white
foam
frill
edged
and
all
the
dreams
I
dreamed
when
i
was
in
my
youth
turned
out
to
be
illusions
where
they'd
promised
to
be
truth
if
you
are
a
victim
of
anyone
it
is
of
yourself !
he
ponders
his
own
demise
stirred
by
occasional
desultory
action
killed
off
by
apathy's
malaise
the
last
of
the
leaves
drift
to
the
ground
their
edges
tinged
with
the
melancholy
of
autumn
the
paradox
of
knowledge
the
more
i
learn
the
less
i
know
disillusion
and
inertia
bind
him
a
hostage
of
death
detached
and
disenchanted
we
dance
at
the
edge
of
a
chasm
i
look
for
the
ladder
bridges
you
gaze
into
the
distance
at
the
stars
to
be
as
solid
and
reliable
as
the
rest
of
the
people
is
to
be
as
uninspired
dominance
and
submission
in
degrees
of
light
and
shade
are
what
make
all
relationships
no
matter
what
is
said
all
the
words
in
the
world
do
not
make
something
so
they
are
after
all
only
words
insanity
is
as
much
what
you
don't
do
as
it
is
what
you
do
girls
are
wolves
consuming
with
infatuation
reply
is
the
wolf
that
consumes
you
can't
argue
with
infinity
she
gives
her
poems
where
she
will
autistic
love
a
paucity
of
emotion
given
a
rationing
of
interest
shown
times
riches
often
spent
in
madness
and
irrational
places
face
devoid
of
emotion
his
body
presses
against
hers
shifting
beneath
his
vacant
stare
she
strains
towards
white
waves
release
a
reservoir
of
tears
within
keeping
personal
integrity
requires
an
effort
some
are
not
prepared
to
maintain
sheets
of
shredded
liquid
twist
and
turn
blowning
horizontal
in
the
wind
he
sits
in
silence
on
THAT
chair
despite
her
warnings
to
beware
to
enrich
their
relationship
he
does
NOT
care
he
sits
in
silence
and
at
others
stares
why
does
she
bother
to
even
care
still
he
sits
in
silence
on
THAT
chair
the
brilliant
hues
of
autumn
are
dripping
from
the
trees
piling
up
around
their
trunks
almost
to
my
knees
scarlet
red
and
russet
brown
form
deep
puddles
on
the
ground
his
conversation
a
stitching
together
of
clichés
from
the
70's
no
spontaneity
no
thrill
of
unexpected
delight
all
micro
managed
and
carefully
planned
no
surprise
no
impulse
no
light
impulse
no
surprise
no
thrill
of
unexpected
delight
all
dull
all
plain
all
planned
no
wonder
my
urge
for
flight
what
does
your
love
do
for
you
and
the
one
you
give
it
to
or
is
it
just
a
lonely
dance
to
fill
a
meaningless
life
not
romance
i
was
not
drawn
into
silence
silence
captured
me
each
new
summer
day
a
symphony
of
colour
buttercup
forever
changing
palettes
renewed
i've
never
been
good
never
been
good
i've
never
done
what
they
say
i
should
never
been
good
never
been
good
i've
only
been
able
to
do
what
i
could
scent
from
the
rose
fell
sweet
on
my
tongue
air
full
of
rose
perfume
sweet
enough
to
taste
the
blossoming
bud
of
a
kiss
coils
of
memory
rolled
up
in
the
dark
why
do
women
always
expect
more
of
men
than
they
are
capable
of
wistful
thinking
or
blindness
?
moonbeams
drip
splashing
the
leaves
with
silver
splotches
i
flash
through
the
stripes
of
shadow
and
sun
air
hanging
cool
in
the
dips
he
writes
poems
but
will
he
eat
a
meal
next ?
i
see
the
birds
sing
in
concert
with
my
heart
taught
my
heart
to
sing
the
fragrance
of
his
skin
enters
me
like
a
thought
thoughts
of
spring
written
on
her
face
breeze
ruched
pale
gold
satin
water
revealed
by
rising
yellow
moon
which
is
lovelier
skeins
of
blue
grey
incense
smoked
across
the
room
time
lays
over
our
images
of
the
dead
there's
the
sun
and
the
wind
and
a
field
full
of
wheat
and
eternity
held
in
a
day
but
it's
so
hard
to
reach
and
its
so
hard
to
hold
and
forever
is
rushing
away
painting
poetry
and
music
open
the
doors
to
infinity
we're
always
going
to
be
steps
beyond
each
other
the
accumulation
of
knowledge
has
to
be
of
use
or
its
of
no
use
there
is
a
power
in
indifferance
a
solitary
strength
stuck
in
a
netherworld
between
life
and
death
don't
want
to
live
don't
want
to
die
what
will
i
do
and
who
am
i
love
brings
us
so
close
in
teeth
and
bone
yet
leaves
us
standing
all
alone
love
gets
so
close
to
teeth
and
bone
what
is
left
as
much
as
you
think
and
less
than
you
rejected
some
people
like
to
moan
and
bleat
don't
appreciate
gifts
laid
at
their
feet
then
howl
and
wail
when
the
gifts
go
missing
don't
want
to
see
they
lost
what
they
were
dissing
obsession
how
much
of
you
has
been
withheld
from
me
but
given
elsewhere
love
gives
as
much
injury
as
it
gives
reward
a
person
can
be
gifted
and
see
life
and
others
clearly
that
doesn't
change
their
base
nature
or
how
they
behave
what
men
just
don't
get
while
they
carry
on
so
is
women
are
not
turned
on
by
little
boys
if
you
want
to
attract
her
as
a
lover
not
a
mother
don't
behave
like
a
child
whose
lost
his
toys
men
spare me !
moan
on
about
how
much
babies
and
menopause
rob
them
of
the
female
attention
they
seek
as
needy
children
not
a
thought
to
what
women
go
through
or
what
little
choice
they
have
when it suits them of course
otherwise its smile
be quiet
look good
sex
a meal
cleaned toilets
no conversation of any worth
men
ever
grow
up
heaven
help
us
if
the
roles
were
reversed
menopause
how
much
of
you
has
it
estranged
from
me
no
man
should
be
allowed
the
right
to
voice
complaint
about
menopause
till
he's
been
through
it
himself
soft
fears
flutter
in
visions
periphery
you
might
meet
the
love
of
your
life
that
doesn't
mean
they
will
see
you
as
such
the
price
you
pay
for
knowing
infinity
is
your
own
demise
you
never
know
where
anythings
going
what
isn't
weird
about
what
we
value
whomever
paints
poor
addicted
dying
with
romance
hasn't
lived
it
who
paints
it
with
humour
has
some
words
when
linked
are
best
left
unsaid
else
they
pile
up
like
bricks
you
can't
go
around
there
are
countless
ways
for
a
lover
to
betray
their
other
large
betrayals
small
i've
seen
them
all
love
betrays
what
it
doesn't
smother
would
these
facts
change
should
i
take
another
fronds
streak
ocean
skies
dandelions painting has something
dark
thread
squirms
in
some
van gogh
paintings
through
numb
inertia
dreams
flow
i
wish
so
many
silly
things
i
wish
that
i'd
been
born
with
wings
was
born
into
the
world
rudderless
woman
was
born
his
helmsman
its
not
the
dying
i'm
afraid
of
it's
the
leaving
you
behind
you
cannot
separate
bukowski
from
the
alcohol
because
he
couldn't
write
without
it
dark
road
night
lights
drivers
going
home
tendrils
of
mist
from
the
river
snake
low
across
the
road
caught
in
high
beam
dissipating
in
their
wake
science
fiction
is
closer
to
infinity
than
religion
i've
worshipped
at
the
temple
of
my
own
belief
there
is
no
need
to
follow
others
you've
got
what
you
need
within
yourself
the
ability
to
be
still
and
trust
your
own
visions
oh
andrew
i'm
a
goner
hear
it
in
music
of
my
breath
every
slow
inhale
exhale
a
soft
wheezing
of
notes
life
as
we
see
it
is
smoke
and
mirrors
a
woman
the
shopping
experience
is
about
much
more
than
the
purchase
of
a
product
when
you've
lost
everything
nothing
matters
when
you've
lost
everything
winters
cool
sunlight
streams
on
dappled
water
circles
sparkle
males
are
sly
with
no
skills
in
it
females
are
so
skilled
in
it
and
males
so
blind
to
it
it
goes
undetected
by
males
more
often
than
not
a
weakness
of
male
thinking
is
a
broad
view
is
enough
it's
no
good
taking
glory
from
someone else's
story
don't
let
likes
and
dislikes
get
to
much
in
the
way
we
can
only
be
the
centre
of
our
own
existance
the
function
of
language
is
concealment
as
much
as
it
is
communication
the
child
seeks
reassurance
the
woman
learns
to
live
with
the
truth