I have made a little promise.
It's the light, the shoulder blades too sharp to touch.
I put on my best clothes and spin around and around,
I draw his image in the dirt in my bed.
Not far away, but too far to touch.
To feel your final fever;
To measure every gain and every loss;
Reaping what you sow; so what?
You will ride separate rails to the end.
I'm recovering from an Ileostomy, having had my colon removed because of a m'fing tumor. I've got this stoma on my belly that I now excrete through into a fucking bag. Not happy. But Thou have put a smile on my face with this. Life's a bitch then you die. Best thing to do is make sure you've got a good soundtrack- and this is an amazing one moggydon