It's nice to be spoken to twice a day with the chosen few sewn up wounds, hoping they'd open soon. Closed for business, open stitches, clone the biscuits, openly chauvinistic. Wow, thicker than my eyebrow. Stumped, mixed up in the gravy lumps. Capsule crash landed with a thump somewhere between the candy floss stand and ski jump. Lump sum or a pound of flesh? Pick your poison 'fore you stick it in the pickled onion, yes! "Confess!" the bad apple protested the good egg... More skilled than a nutmeg. Meat and potatoes of the case were a piece of cake. Spilt the beans until he recognised what was at stake. Hard to swallow but he took it with a grain of salt. Caramel, case closed in a nutshell. Well, what's left? Two peas in a pod...tell the chef to save them for the cod. That's odd, he's eating pie in the sky; pondering about the bigger fish he has to fry. Why cycling everyday didn't take it's toll, perhaps it was the scrolls in the pigeon holes with the LL and CH postcodes, well well let's see. Wait...don't think so! Perhaps it wasn't what he pictured at all, futzing about the vapid space, clock on the wall, mopping the floor, clocking in and out of the door like a bruhahahaha flocking into a store. He parted ways with the sloppy, troglodyted phase, engaged in opposites and people twice his age. Still ate the chocolate though because it's fun Don't even wanna rhyme, I just want some chocolate. When can we just be friends? Good morning, wake up, look down, look up, night night, sweet dreams, sleep tight, and sweep it under the rug. Now look above, what do you see? Can you envision a reflection of your mind as it fishes in the coral sea? Could you trust another soul with your deepest, darkest secret buried deep inside you heart, regardless? Take a second and forget the harvest, forget fear, forget your carcass, forget your car keys, forget judgement, forget about the sticky toffee pudding with the fudge and custard. Just don't settle for that slippy slope, phone up hope, your old friend, she'll help you cope. Take a mental note, get in the zone, hone into her mellifluous and gentle tone. Morning, wake up, look down, look up, night night, sweet dreams, sleep tight, and sweep it under the rug like... Time, does it move in a straight line? I'm leaning cyclical, you feeling digital? A shiver spirals up my spine and then I realised we spoke about this when we were nine or ten. Floating through the reeds until we reach the bottom of the bank. Seeds bundled up inside a cotton bandage. Clouds drifting along with your sense of abandon. You hear the faint distant sound of another language. Spanish moss, tangled up tillandsia. Overwhelming sense of ambivalence drank from the tankard. You've come through the hullabaloo into something peculiar... Where it's nice to be spoken to.

I think I'm gonna take a little trip now, haven't got money for a ticket but I'll somehow come down. Meet me around sundown, I feel at home in your town. I'll never rest in peace in this ghost town, used to be the host now I'm headed for the coast like burnt toast...I've been in too long. Is it wrong to get scared when things go oblong? I've only gone and put odd socks on; polka dot frocks and legs like lock stock, double barrel shotgun surname Top-Copp. Strawberry shirt folded up like a crop top. Oh no, we live further than a stone's throw; we'll have to play a few games of hopscotch. Hop into the cotton, buried deep beneath the jumper. With you I feel ten years younger. There's a been a shift in tone, is it set in stone? Hold no hope in hieroglyphics because they can erode. The second tablet got us crushed inside the hippodrome. No more jockeying about because we're in the zone. How do you really feel, you on an even keel? I miss how you wake up; the sound of Seal. Out the duvet, straight into a set of painted overalls, overall I just want you back but Top I know the score. So please don't hold your breath for you've too many left. You deserve some fresh air, I know you haven't slept. How you kept on working fourteen hour shifts and never moaned, I'll never know. It's been a pleasure just watching you grow. So, I guess I owe you for the bouldering, that's how I know I'll never show you the cold shoulder and you know what's true? You're flipping' rock hard whenever you choose, I know you'll have no trouble when it comes to climbing through the blue. He returned from Cherbourg and informed the mother who worked at the store that Johnny Boy's home; not fighting no war. Three or four feet sore from scheming on the see-saw. Promised to change the way he behaved. Swore the parader through the clay when it rained. Steep kinda looking step enveloped in the velcro leads to shrines of cooking texts and triple stripe shell-toes Tails of Johnny Boy - the woolgatherer; ambled around town but gambled with stamina. Lost his first love, didn't count on a second. Travelled to Cherbourg but only in his mind's eye... Reck you're ready to spread the umbrella like Jun Kazama in Tekken 2. A kite floating in the retinal...ineffable fear. Even though your name in my phone has changed, something tells me to always wait for you. Mon amour je t'attendrai toute ma vie absence is a funny thing my little strawberry.

Like a stampede on a trampoline. A police chase with no gasoline. The dial tone after the answer machine. Dipping in and out of a diluted daydream. Marginally based in truth yet, suited to a more convoluted youthful mind. I like Auf Wiedersehen, Pet and John Belushi movies at the same time Only one thing remains constant through time and that's this... You always make me feel so high. So...hi.

Local church is a new build. Stained glass window imported on Wednesday. Supposed to be 8th Century but when you check the data entry, someone's been getting extra etch-a-sketchy. Just wanna play wallie in the entry behind Breeze Hill with a Mitre ball and some friends, see. Eyes lighting up, you spot a volley you can net sweet, but then you smash it straight ver the bar into next week. Always been that "close but no cigar" tip. Bulldozing the market let a rose grow in the arctic. Those that know the hardship know exactly where it started. It doesn't;t matter if you're from Connah's Quay or Cardiff. Ok, he wished he had an accent. He wished he had a calendar that was always in advent. He wished that Night in Manchester had never happened but if it hadn't, how differently would he be acting? It's a complex question...deserves his full attention. How much rest you been getting? How much have you been fretting? Spaghetti junction thinking always harkens back to her. Switching characters, stuck in a loop - Scott Bacula.

Anthony, you've lost your way. Jumping from the tabernacle. Anthony, before you fight, make sure you pray down by the turnbuckle. Anthony a little slice of heaven creeping through the interstice. Anthony, eschewing fickle fears will never guarantee the truth.

There's no one iller than my bro, the silverback gorilla. Listens to silver chair, me J Dilla. Master shredder, master splinter. Sharing stew in the harshest winters. Bunk beds and shin splinters. AC Milan, and Internationale My rationale has never been fashionable, I'm managing the make my tangerine dreams tangible. Let me share a seggie with you. If you dare let your hair loose to Peggy Sue. Shoes untied, make up left behind, you can jive through humankind. We played hide and seek for like sixteen weeks. I need to sleep, my knees are weak. These memories we seek I'll always keep. Let me take you to the third floor, up steep steps. Forgive me for these words sore. I've endured the purest form of a scorned jaw, up until I jumped over that lump that I was born for. I can't cry tears, no. That's why I always carry fear and hope. So grab a ball that scratched to bits, surely. And get you and your brother to come out and play wallie. Paulie - the third wheel in the story. Punchlines are short-lived pleasures when you're forty. But you continue to find it in you to hum the melodies. Perhaps there's more to these homeopathic remedies. We've all diluted down through time to morph into the future. So as the birds and the bees take flight, I thank god that you went to the Hare and Hounds that night. It goes Mum and Dad and sister, brother, sister, brother, sister, brother, niece and nephew, nephew and niece, nephew, nephew, nephew, niece and nephew...and little baby Indie too.

Peep inside and reflect on soul decisions, marks that you left, hearts that you stretched, heads that you turned, minds that you moulded, bridges you burned, hands that you traced, necks you embraced, fingers you pointed, blame you misplaced, time that you wasted twisted and tainted, consciousness laced with ignorance, face it. Monsters deflated you innocence under the bed. With that being said, father forgive him for he needs to go to a place in order to get him some help. He never felt like himself, ever since twelve he left the book on the shelf. Projected his worst inner features on everyone else, nestled in blame like a blanket. Questions for nurses and teachers that helped settle the brain out of Cansas. Tumbling down the rabbit hole, landing not on a yellow brick road, but in London wondering how he got in this conundrum. Something's got to give soon or he's done done. Left the pepperoni pizza in the oven, yum yum. Double dip a chocolate chip cookie in the cup, son. Duck duck goose on the playground is fun but mum please can I have Rusty round for lunch? Trust me, we were dusty out in front. Wipe down for the knees up at your cousins. This story is a cross between Good King Wenceslas and Good Will Hunting. So what you wanna do, little bro? I just wanna take you to a show. take you to a gallery, take you for a meal, take for a kick about on the thirty-three. You can bring your friends, you can be yourself. You can go in goal, you can be upfront, you can be defensive. I know you've been through a lot. I know you've been through a whole lot...wanna talk? So what you want do, little man? I can see you moving to Japan. Train to be an engineer See it's clear, shifting gears is something you understand. I was so impressed that day when you sat up on the bank. You start new school September, I hope you settle in but if you don't, just remember...we can talk.

I You We Found Joy

Figures. Mirror's image. Thriller zipper scissors-kick killers. Bill Willer's whispers are thicker than a winter coat. Spinning with the sinners, lord forgive us. I bet you regret getting your feet wet. I don't care what he said. Don't eject the seatbelt. Dummy succumbing to to peer pressure, come here a second and take a minute to think about this decision. Find a rhythm for your breathing, heart's beating. Aorta not stop the the cycle from bleeding. There's too much vinegar on those fish and chips. Grease seeps through yesterday's news. The rules are there ain't no rules, so you better refuel Danny Zuko. Honey, I'm home, bone dry, lower than a brisket. The stakes weren't high; never risked it. Never moved on briskly from the floppy. Disk jockey, flow sloppy but not furlong though, Coppy. My voice might be a little hoarse. Pony rides along Coney Island, of course. Exhaust fumes pollute your brain. Do you let off steam or stay in your lane? Train tracks explain a one track mind. Facing backwards in a reserved seat, fine. Feet up, recline. "Go your ticket on you, mate?" Declined. The boiler's on the blink again, I think he said it cost about a thousand pound to fix it. Blinking' 'eck, I just want hot water to pour out the sink again, think again. Urgh...what a faff. About time he had a cold bath, splish splash. But don't forget the measuring jug, next to the cupboard where my leg got stuck. There's no doubt in my mind that he's the type to shout ouch!" and be fine. Th eVCR rewind button is broken, open the cat flap and blow then. Tangled up mylar ribbon is angry, actually, it looks a little like liquorice candy...handy. Index fingers slot into the cogs. Sorting out this mess of forgotten knots and odd socks to see what's what. Knock knock, who's there? Who cares? Who dares sins wins, next of kin putting out the bins while he's sipping on a glass of gin.No, more like Vimto. When the light hits it right, it looks like a stained glass window. Ain't those plimsoles the same ones that you wore the school last week bro? Sheesh, can't be having that. Sometimes kids wear silly hats. Just kidding, the future's looking bright though. Pressure to perform a particular way with your mates provides you with a certain state of mind. Which path will you take?

Trying to hold his own, wait he's still at home. Won't even own up to mistake he made in monochrome. Every time you spoke, he'd even put you down on speakerphone. Hindsight is black and white imagery taken within drone. At thirty thousand feet she never puts her feet up. Eloquently helping people relocated and set their dreams up. He wishes they could meet up and catch up with a coffee, offering opinion on some gossip like a silly sausage. Nonsense, sometimes we need it though. Sometimes we knead the dough too much and let the flavour go. He was a slave for good behaviour, now the chains have broke. Angel grove resurrecting Ivan Ooze, a dangerous bloke. Despite his service chart, he deserved a purple heart, or so he thought...neglected reason at the door. Knock knock, he's not in the mood for jokes no more. never understood the concept of playing an encore. Guess his timing was off. One bright red cross in the punctual box, right at the bottom of the big bad blue report. You and him, you grew up learning two schools of thought, and three towns across and four words embossed, stitched into a navy blazer that your mother gave you. High five, see you later mate, six at the latest. Eventually he ate his words when Main made alphabet spaghetti. Do you get me when I address it in first? It's the worst, let a verse contemplate the universe. Now take it back to the bunsen burners and dungarees. Spanish skirmishes, some subtle skulduggery. Scratch the surface, pass the planners with dirty words in. Have you heard his whacky accent he practised earlier? Stood at the bottom off the science steps while his mind crept up in the air. Where you flying next? If I told you how I'm feeling, would you think that Im strange? Lately darling I've been dreaming about us going out in our dungarees. Sipping and singing into this baby bottle until I throttle my cushy buggy into a hug of a loving mother. This discovery that you have made is like no other. I wonder at night what colour eyes will give them sight. And list which characteristics are mixed. Button noses, brown eyes, and big lips. A pick up sticks complexion of heritage stretching from Delhi to the Reggio Emilia connection. I feel affection for a future blessing, but my body tense from sitting onto of a fence. Selfish behaviour was not my saviour so see you later rollerblading Talledega taking up my data. I cannot wait for you to say "hi" Eighteen moons in the womb until you arrive. You'll walkie talkie when you start to cry then we'll watch you walk and talk and sing lullabies. Dummy landed on the sleet-hungry concrete street covered in saliva from bleeding gums and crooked teeth. Before it bounced on the ground the second time around, a sound never heard made. grave man berserk. But unearthed and grown, the hearse reversed like a scene unrehearsed. The sun breathed life into the seed's universe. Exceeding expectation, the seed agreed to engage in conversation. One plant became the plantation. One pop loved one of the population. One price to pay for preservation. One might say that time is overrated, but one life is all we get to make a statement. So ciao la mia famiglia, a Reggio Emilia. Mi dispiace che e stato un po. Ma prometto che torneró si sediamo a tavola raccontando storie e bevendo vino, ciao!

I've been acting weird, don't feel myself. Might fake a yawn, like that will help. Move things along, share something new. I can't look at you. When there's dry blood on the kitchen sink, now I understand why we don't hold hands when we cross the street. Is there anyone left in this house or is it time to fall asleep?

The fact that these thoughts have entered my mind demonstrate that I am a hypocrite sipping on cloudy lemonade, but if I've learned anything from my Mum it's definitely that history should be preserved, so I'll write down some words about a terraced house situated in between three of the rowdiest pubs that you have ever seen. Dee Road and Custom House School's just around the corner too, and can't forget Garage Bob's. Can he fix it? Probably not. Bottles of bobba tea probably not as hot as the coffee pot. I've got to jot the rest of this dot-to-dot down. Go outside to play, the sun starts to sorch. Look over the wall, I see Uncle George. He watches on happily as me and John shoot baskets averaging one out of three, actually it's more like one out of four. We never count the score, unlike Kings of the Castle, 4-3 thanks to Stan Collymore. I hear a shout coming from around the side of the house "Sam, come give us a hand and get the shovel out". It's Dad, he's standing next to the bunker that old and rusty but holds enough coal to see us through the winter months comfortably. I dig the shovel underneath a lump of coal, get some soot on my dungarees from the bunker hole. We start the fire together, can't wait to send Santa's letter. I never tell you but, Dad I'm forever grateful for every twelve hour shift that you ever have worked, plus overtime. Not forgetting how selfless you acted, I hope that you don't mind if I mention the time that your health was in question. Never had us guessing; I respect how you just told us how it was. I learned a lesson that evening that only a real man can put his family ahead of any results from a scan, but before I get the chance to say thanks, he's off doing odd jobs. TOB needs a tyre fitting, so he's gone down Garage Bob's. That night, me and Beth, we went up every steep step but had to stop on the landing when we heard the front door banging. Standing in limbo is something I've always took for granted. Perhaps I'd act a little different if I'd met my Grandad. Anyway...Mum answers the door. It's Garage Bob, you know, I mentioned him before. His drunken eyes look up at us, stood on the landing. He shouts up "night girls!"...hysterics laughing. he must have just come up from down the road, The Labour Club. Where people go for dominos and karaoke fun. Where people chance their luck on the bandits, they can't resist. Where I go for a blackcurrant and a bag of crisps. Where a crowd of us gather every Saturday after the final whistle has blown and the club is packed to the rafters. As exciting as this this, my head has conjured up a list of things I need to do to get out, and go Manhattan quick. I lived a full life. I lived a full life with you at Number 7 Breeze Hill but I was just dreaming. Suddenly I'm hunched over the bar and my back is aching. I've lost my sense of smell and my hands are shaking. The bar lady asks "want the usual, dear?" I say "Blackcurrant", she laughs and pours a point of beer. Smoking rollies alone, out in the cold, hobble inside and slide open a box of dominos. The lonely bloke on the karaoke sings golden oldie from the year 2019, my brain is spinning slowly. I stumble over to the bandit, having trouble standing. Use the machine as leverage as I take a sip from my alcoholic beverage. I see a holographic message on the TV screen - 'Win a trip to Manhattan and fulfil all of your dreams!". I see myself as a child crawl through my frail legs, but instead of bashing the flashing buttons, he says "come on, let's go back home". Breeze Hill, heaven sent. Don't ask where number seven went. I lived a full life. I lived a full life with you at Number 7 Breeze Hill but I was just dreaming.