I Speak in spectrals and broken english, language is no longer necessary to a lifeless soul as I. The numbness rises and my poor dead body lays unknown, I am fairy lights in ashes and old cobwebs spun anew. I am a gentle breeze on road side shrubs and storms in far off places, I am the moats of sunlight upon waking and the fog which clouds your windows at night, my story is in your birth cries and settles in the dew upon your grave. I am now all things and nothing, all the things you need and everything you ignore, I have no meaning and life meant nothing. but through the madness and happenstance, the colours and sounds, the quiet moments and the loudness of a life which screamed from cradle to grave, It meant only that I was alive.
These little moments are crossed by symbols and threads which lead into lifetimes swollen with regret, Judy Garland brings roses which she lays upon my knees, and I think about how strange this is and how worried I should be, but these thoughts rise into clouds which drift eastwards into days I shall never see. I am not the man I thought and neither that which I need to be, but brave seas keep rolling and empires rise and fall.