It has always been the way of the world.

It has always been the way of the world.

Do I bleed

So easily

As to leave a stain

Upon the page

As a mark of my commitment

To the true connection

Between us

Is it no more than

Is to be expected

When conscience is pricked

There is meaningful reaction

A drip fed release

A medicinal cannula

Do I mainline

More from habit than need

A transfusion

Full of empty promise

A rich vein

Of old fools gold

A super drug

To flood through

Deficient defences

When barriers are down

Does a drowning man’s

Ego force itself

Into the mainstream

Of heartfelt flow

Swimming in simple symbolism

A river of words

A tumble of muddy syntax

With barely a trickle of meaning

Running through,

A cataract of steam

Hot air

Released as necessity

Dictates

Blood me simple

My own grubby fingerprints are all over

This ragged template.