Death is loneliest, After buried or scattered. Life seems more sociable.
Death always gets the wrong ones: Always reaching out a cold, bony finger pointing his aim at the voice of … More
‘He was never under any illusion that he could fix all of the world’s problems, or even those of the tiny world he had inhabited for over three decades, alongside criminals, degenerates, low-lifes and innocents of all descripts.’
Sold Quietly married around the world, solemnly Sadness followed them.
Graffiti strewn alley walls miss the fingers of hands, on stretched out arms, Just. Dark cobbles glint deep below heavy … More