My Song.

Beyond that skyline of cranes
We settle in our hollow holes
Living in blocks of this and that... cemented
The winding staircase ...going up and down narrow...
...and very narrow by the bone...
Gets tight around the head.
Shinning off the skin it shrinks us....me...
The thing I call myself
And then I sing ... I sing a song...and they all laugh..
but I need it ...to get along..
I need my song...

I do not knock it.

Kristine Byrne 2010