beta-blocker

[brokenbridge]

Call it a muse, call it a desperate vain desire to make sense of this world. It matters not. It has gone.

Hope you are all well.

Maybe one day I can return with words

Regards

Vincent

[brokenbridge]

Of course this is merely a shadowy attempt to gain some form of cyber-sympathy, so during the bleak unerverring hours of night when the merest twitch of a wind blown twig taps the blackboard window, sends me into a nervous stomach churning wreck. If I had a large enough spoon I would coax it down my throat and scoop the poison-winged butterflys from their warm cage. Imagine that! Anxiety free. A mind free from the nonesnse-blur of irrational thought, FREE to write a poem of my own unshakled ego. Worrying is utterly exhausting, I sometimes watch long distance runners, face-pain etched, drenched in sweat and determination and I think, shit, thats what my brain must look like, the only difference being the runner is running towards a goal, a target and end, My brain is running in circles, concoting fear, concoting fear, concoting fear.

[brokenbridge]

How lucky the pigeons who chimney hop the roofs of Derry.
Quite the romance on a dreery rain-bead morning.

Wasnt that once us? larking from leather sofa to kitchen
sink. We once was. Wasnt we?

[Ros]

Have some sympathy, Vincent.

But you're practically writing poems there. Slap them into shape, and stick them on the forum.

Ros

[Pauline]

Wasn't that once us? larking from leather
sofa to kitchen sink.

Great opening line for a poem.
I look forward to reading the rest