Your absence is murdering the very little inspiration I have left in my soul, thus, obliged I am to beg and plead for your blessed and divine presence once more, before I consider placing chains on these heavy-hearted doors, before the raven starts to crow its “nevermore”, before the silence presents itself in quantum galore, before another my passions are conned to adore; return and watch what my damned black ink has in store, be it sinister or sore, be it of interest or of bore, be it whatever it may be, it is you who I have written it for.

27/04/2015