Days and weeks and years and months and burning wheels and those moments when it all gets too much and there’s nothing to be done but drown my sorrows but then as one word follows the next I’m back once again and in control of all things. Yeah I’m a bum and yeah I’m mad but I’m a lover and I’m a seeker of visions and I answer to no one. Except for my mum, and maybe the animal girl, that is. Sometimes I want to cut off my hands so I’ll never again write another word but then just like that a door opens leading me to a place none have ever seen and I’m soon flying through the sky like Peter Pan and try as they might they can’t reach me and I’m free to be whatever I want to be. If there isn’t tenderness and love, I don’t want to know. If there isn’t emotion and truth, I’ll get my coat. It’s not a great coat, but it’s mine, and it keeps me warm. Walking around town, there are so many that don’t see, but that’s their problem, not mine. They don’t even believe, which is sacrilege, it has to be, but again, it’s their life to lead and if they don’t want to believe, then let them. In the sky, as are in my hands, there are so many stars that shine for you and I alone. When I stuff them into the pockets of my worn and weary coat, they keep me warm and they keep me safe. When I next see you, I’ll place them in your mouth and in your tummy, and when they grow and make you bloom, I’ll write down what you mean to me and let the world know our story and you’ll kiss me and just like that the universe will bend and twist to our every whim.