Empty sketches Brothers three

The Count had been very kind to me

Wherever you are I am the musician That you left wounded In a muddy winter ditch

One of the great things About July evenings Are the frequent blush sunsets They are so splendid That you question their reality

I am my only friend As my mirror No longer Likes me

You have asked me to follow The Roads of Mercy I am not sure if I can do this As I lack any sense of direction I will therefore have to be my own guide

I can feel you near me I can feel you in my life You have always been there I have been so blind Please forgive me

I have that my poetry With not contain words But only the colours Violet Blue and Purple I will write about many of you I will be kind and unkind My ink with be sour and acidic Or smooth velvet when I choose This is my final poem

We just wanted to be left alone Painting this and that and each other But our works were spotted And we were exhibited Out former existence had vanished In a matter of months Our cottage was now a holiday let We were celebrities Reluctant celebrities So we purchased our cottage And burnt our clothes And […]

I fuck artists No matter who They are Just give me a call Any hole I am not choosy Men need not apply What are you doing Masie Designing a poster For our church fair Come back to bed In a minute Julia It is wet outside A summer storm It is even wetter in […]