It is a skin warming sadness,A warm bath surrender in-to the slow, wrinkled stare - out the most ordinarily empty, Unceremoniously average 11:37 am Sounds, and single-coloured walls and shoes and hands and sugared cream-coffee and RUSHED, always late-to-work, forced walksThere is no eruptive Pain.No great knowing when, or where or how deepYour hands have buriedTheir charms, how long coloured-skin-oiled ceremonies will lastAlong these eyes that blend memories of the heartwith hard lines .But i see it, Sometimes in full colour Leaking into the everyday, Unceremoniously average morning-after-sadness, hang-out-to-dry-until-its over.Each drip of usWashed awayIn such a quietly normal,Unfinished Daytime ending

June 2nd, 2014, 9am

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Chris Wright

A poet and campaigner, traveller and a trailer on a truck on a freeway in danger of being stopped on driving while writing false charges of rhyme, robbery and possession of illegal line endings

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