Still piercing They are still screeching and I thought I would be hearing the sea from this side of town all roll of rock and recycling the stones and the sand and the sound but instead the weeping of gulls through the fall of the rain is most distinct and piercing the hills and the vale and the ground is just a surface for sweeping when dawn comes around Upon the hour The wine to which I turn upon the hour is my least favorite salve the nicotine I crave will be my destroyer and there is nothing I can do but watch my actions and take against the self that draws them out The company I've lost over the decades comes to haunt me now lovers I have lost I once serenaded now there is nothing left but to love the ever-living and accompany the self wherever it gives out
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