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Wednesday 3rd April 2019.

April come she will, Thus the clocks have jumped forward...Why in this day and age, i ask myself each year, does anybody know, or perhaps really care and quite why each year it irk's in a ball of flaming  chocolate troglodytes, blessed after all these years is only known to the one armed paper hanger living down the street...lost in his dreams of sponged soap suds blowin in the wind on some outspoken summer day to come quietly over the horizon in the near future perhaps.
Will this Manchester Basin witness a summer like 2018 is another perhaps without blowin in the wind. I am indeed quite sober, the mistake tonight is Simon And Garfunkel are on the turn table...Sounds of Silence...echoes in the darkness of this room cluttered with memories perhaps from that very era....and perhaps i should say good night all.....before i jibber...with streams of words not making any sense as they trickle down my arms across these keys in a fit mediocre tapestry...Kathy's Song..so Goeth.

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bichoose
bichoose

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