I have so much I wish to say

Words, dripping off the page into your open, hungry mouths.

How I am, perhaps for the first time, content with who I am as a person.

How we mocked someone else’s LIFE at work (that’ll be a poem). He’s Boxer and we’re the pigs. There are no sheep in this tale …

Why this line is in my head ‘Power, hunger, pieces of flesh, fragments of a soul.’.

After I sleep, I shall perchance write.

The beauty of the rain is how it falls.