This is my first happy Autumn, tonight, my first genuine smile; I see lights across the Menai as they sing my first 'goodnight'. But they are songs I've never heard, and all our imaginary words; all those words I was too stubborn to say, and now they stop in my throat, and they choke me like mutants without the mutations, so that now I can only hear. And I heard you walked alone last night through this beautiful, silent city in the mountains. And last night, I saw the stars for the first time, shyly blushing behind the burnt sky. They called to me, "We miss you", and as they disappeared in blisters, I paused and barely whispered, "I miss you too." So the Autumn leaves hold onto me. I just drag them inside for company.

Thank you, subconscious soup of the fuck-up that was my day; you’ve been better to me than any muse ever has.

Restricted in the evening until some child’s bedtime. Thank God it wasn’t mine, although, I can’t say that in this house. The grand prize of bards to some. But to me, another boundary. I would gloat, but its arms are merely beer taps hiding half-empty bottles of gin under the kitchen sink. And the legs? Well, you know.

A nervous giggle slips my lips as I walk past; this is the place where we first met; Where I first caught your gaze between the bubbles and the bottles. But an electric fog blocks my view and I cannot touch you. So a steady hand taps the glass between you and I - and sparks fly.

Three years it’s taken me. Three. We see our world in threes, don’t we? In circles, sounds, and trinities; between the white and green of our country; from Catterick to Brittany. There’s you, those three, and then there’s me. The syllables in your name sing songs to me. Between obsession and insanity, three years, I’m crushed, and it’s taken me.

I can see the moon wall. The only manmade structure visible from Earth. But it’s not as stable as it looks from underneath. Leaving marks in the red and gold furnishings that defy the laws of gravity and the soft, smooth whiteness of walls. Slipping and squeaking under skin. Don’t step outside, please; you can’t breathe. Don’t imitate the kids in PVC. They’re getting high on lack of oxygen, and they can’t see.

One, two One, two. There's an echo in here.