I’ve made myself hollow again.
Life, love and phone contract paused… on hold.
Forgotten battles regain definition
As day-to-day worries tick-tock to sepia thoughts of old.

I’m thirsty for the forthcoming chapters;
New tales to trade for backslaps and beer;
Yarns rich with adventure (hinting at bravery)
Will mask my soul’s disgrace and despair,

As pallid ghosts of friends perch on bar stools
While their technicolour doppelgangers
Grin dustily from pictures on shelves.
For now, valiant thoughts of tragic grandeur

Allow my fears to be suppressed and sealed
Into three brown envelopes left with parade-ground precision on my desk.