The Average Attention Span Of

And Still The Brain Continues To Yearn, Continues To Burn, Foolishly, With Desire. My Old Man's Brain Is Mocked By A Body That Still Longs To Stretch In The Sun And Form A Beautiful Shape In Someone Else's Gaze, To Lie Under A Blue Sky And Dream Of Helpless, Selfless Love, To Behold Itself, Illuminated, In The Golden Light Of Another's Eyes.

It's A Strange Sensation To Live Inside Another Person's Life, To Wonder All The Time What He Is Doing, Or Thinking Or Feeling.

Every War Has Turning Points And Every Person Too.

Fate Is Trying To Kill Me. I Miss My Dog. What's A Doctor Going To Say? You're Not Ill, You're Mad As A Muffin? They'll Either Lock Me Up Or Tell Me To Get A Grip And No One Will Believe The Truth Anyway.

I, A Late Riser, Fantasise About Getting Up Every Morning At 5 A.m. To Fetch The Horses In From The Fields.