Canterbury tails

And so it ends so hard and rough

And so I cry inside not out

And so I murmur 

Unable to shout 

Out that injustice of failure.

And so the white and black

Do mix as hardened 

Tricks of rapid pics

Snapped sadly and

Maddening now I fear:

A reversal quite 


As change is rejected 

And positives all 

Are decried.

And the deception 

And the reception of

Real achievement 

Now leads to a breavement

Of senses.

No longer am I able

To understand the cable

That once connected us

So real and dear.

And the affection I felt for 

You: was it ever true?

Or did I always have to 

Make some effort

To be close 

To the us which once we 


Were seen



Scenes were 


Refunded, like

Ticket and 


Cheaply printed 

And reseated

In deepening pockets 

Of deceit.

And in this awful end

I have hurt


All three women who

Ever meant important 

Things to me.

The common 



Them I am sure: rather,

The man who finds

Himself writing 

These words of blurred 

And real weird confusion.

And so my responsibility 

Grows greater.

And so my perspicacity 

Does decline.

And so the bad man I have

Clearly become

No longer reclines in

The love of 

Any life.

How hard it is to

Battle through this idea:

Not of feeling alone,

Not of one’s still [s]own 


But of making

Another – via roads and

Paths of hurting

Stones stumbled,

And verbs hardly

Tumbled – feel

Even more solo

Than I ever have been.

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