A paracetamol tablet moon hangs in the sky
Dispensing silver outlines to the structures
It helps to slowly ease my headache
In this graveyard of a city
Wrapped in the cloak of a lunar prince
Where each building is a headstone
Representing each life asleep within
This night is a cell of lonely spirits
Chasing me through hungry houses
In Cul-de-Sacs of gold and green
Ghosts of all the compromises I have made
Each limitation I let her impose is here
With faces drawn and eyes alive
Forcing me to make the cut, this time...

So I promise them I'll do it; and I'm alone
Leaning on the railings of a bridge down town
Screaming my demands into the bitter air
I'm well aware, the answers are not there
Like bottles that once held parchment messages
All I'll find here are the repeating echoes
Any words that return are just my own
That voice I know so well, screaming back at me
So perhaps instead, it's somewhere in ink
Black and white pronouncements of identity
Stating who she is and what she wants
And from that document of existence
I could contrast our central view-points
To deduce the probability of eternity

Now, in the dust of a quiet, resting lane
I breathe beneath a white phosphor glow
Filling my steaming lungs with icy air
I let a solitary drop of liquid fall
From my eyes as I examine again
The stolen pages of her diary I hold here
Their leaves curling in my shaking hands
Well, I know now where I should be going
To a place I haven't been for years
Sobriety and consciousness collide there
It offers up the things I crave now
That she could never have given me
Acceptance, understanding and opportunity
The space and encouragement to create
Something...anything...
As long as I have the possibility
To make something, anything
Anything at all...

(2005)