What is it that defines me ? wines and then dines me..unpicks and re-knits then underlines all those bits that I’d rather forget.

Whatever it is seems to be set in a stone..

..and I want to go home.

But home is no longer is anyplace where I can find an old sack.

There is no going back to those laughter filled days and come what may or June or July I have to stop all this thinking and understand why the apple on the tree almost always looked better to me because I just didn’t see that the pips in my hand would one day grow up and then stand like the ultimate sentry the final no entry.

I have just lost the will and cannot find a thrill when I swim through your eyes or run my tongue up your thighs and it’s all red hot lies because I know that time flies but the clocks seemed to have stopped and the wide open gate has been eventually locked and the words in my head have finally woken and in shouts they have said…


Stop and let’s start it again let’s go through the pain of the growing up years.switch through the gears and dry up your tears.

I’m here to remind you of what it is that defines you..and yet I am not any clearer..the answer to me does not seem any nearer.

There is a theory I know that says;

“A man only grows when his Autumn wind blows”

Is that why I’m feeling the chill?


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