As i stumble around the back end alleyways of our metropolitans more grimier side,
soon ending up on Elizabeths main;
my cranium continues to throb from subsequent pain, probably from its attempts at repairing itself...and failing.
With patchy memories which could embroid itself upon a quilt in congruous order,
Kneeling against the cornerstone at Unions Lane, I proceed, to pick the dozens of strings of yarn that had stuck to the velcro encasings of my trouser pockets,
Wondering how i ended up nestled against a dumpster with a small piece of asphalt lodged within my right temple, i still didn’t know...
sort of like Franke