But I am here and I am still hunky-dory.

But I am here and I am still hunky-dory.

I speak out loud

In every situation

Sometimes it may be inappropriate

An intimacy once shared

Still looking for a home

Strange looks, this way come

Sympathy is only skin deep

Tolerance is in short supply

I know what they think

Just another lonely old soul

His memory on the blink

Not that I would stop

Old memories lie around every corner

In retrospect, so are the new ones

Though the making of them feels different

Their formation is less robust

As if they are waiting to be confirmed

Or is it affirmed

When the truth of my predicament

Is so precariously perceived

Three fingers can bring the past

Into the present

Two more can break my spirit world apart

When all futures are bound to start

As did all things past,

The present, barely understood

I need a witness

Without one I am unsure

If I still am, or ever was, here

I could be anywhere at any time

Or nowhere,

In particular that I would ever want to be

Disorganised in thought and deed

As if nothing really mattered.

Without a need for order

Days can and do, roll by

A tumble of disconnection

A lyric without a hook

A story without a book

An idea lost in time

In search of its meaning

Or a way out

Whilst I am still of a mind to care

I can believe

She might be out there,

Listening, somewhere

And to behold the wonder of it all

Lives do need a witness.