The Sky Sinks In The Morning, This

Was I Asleep? Had I Slept?

I Try. I Fail. I Try Again. I Fail Better.

There Is No Escape From Yesterday Because Yesterday Has Deformed Us, Or Been Deformed By Us. The Mood Is Of No Importance. Deformation Has Taken Place.

Nothing Matters But The Writing. There Has Been Nothing Else Worthwhile... A Stain Upon The Silence.

We Always Find Something, Eh Didi, To Let Us Think We Exist?