Haven't slept since 4am.

Play Rickie Lee Jones.
Muddle with keys.
Talk to myself.
Little mysteries.

And some days I really miss you...

A lot more than I planned I should.
When everyone is gone and I want to call you, 
I remember that you cannot answer.
The time has passed, 
And I should feel a lot more grown up
Than I do right now.

T.B. Sheets

Happy House

Tea Tales.

And I’m thinking

I shouldn’t have had

That one too many cup

Of Irish Breakfast.

The Earl would be angry

If he found out.

I daren’t mention that coffee

As I’ll be back tomorrow

With less words strung together

Than I can manage now.

She drove me here...

But she ain't gonna take me away.

Whenever.

Wallflower.

Blank.

Black Pepper.

Overcast.

It was Sunday afternoon.

We sat in his overcast apartment

And he played a song –

Alone, jealous and stoned.

He sipped vodka. Straight.

Stared at the screen.

I smoked another cigarette

And watched his clouds

Articulate through his head

And spread up the wall.

Just another spider web.

Best served with red wine.

The first time I heard Leonard Cohen

(And knew that I heard Leonard Cohen)

I was sitting at that table

In the warmed wooden room of high ceilings

And constant stream of interesting conversation.

That night I wanted to wipe away my youth

So I too could be one of the old wise faces.

And even though I did not know who Marianne was,

Or why we should bid her so long,

A woman across me sang to come over to the window.