That Lucky Old Sun (Revised)

A sense of self imposed apartheid; bars on my window and chains on my door, visible to myself, to others they are non existent, there are no restraints.

With every sunrise there is a sunset…

A sunset like a fallen curtain with only echoes of love in his ears. Or like the gates on his windows…shuttered and secure…

Secluded, protected and unshaven…rough, tough and demented, falling towards assorted variations of self inflicted life affirming pain.

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