I had a long epic of my life
Only things you could describe
Beautiful shit is the name that comes to mind.

Proverbial wasteland makes the velvet bottle
Glass and blue gin are the product
I've never been so sick
The fever wanes, waxes
The moon won't get out of my head

A quadrillion of stars
Deep blue velvet with diamonds
Cloak about my shoulders
You're the only star-gazer

Empathy of Leo
Dusty tomes explain it all
Hearts have ached in silence
Silence is diamond
You know of star-jewels.

You're scared of honeybees
They fill the sick full with awe
Orchards in the spring
From the Throne the sick see the vessels

Is it carrying Sheba's spice?
White apes as pets?
Sick waits for her turn to town

Porcelain detailed
Boiling brown and biscuits
Weather and joy is of debate
The sick have never been so cared for

Brass bed and white sheets
Stiff on solitude,
Damp with sick dreams
Pale, weak hand taken
Gentle hold

Bowl that holds broth
Hiding the golden goblet of King's wine
Weak smiles
Wisps of unattained hair
Will you go back to sea?

Always picking the sick up
Soft words to make the sick stolid
A few can't fathom their gratitude


Darling, to the sea you make your way
From this throne, ailing, I wait again
Fixed for a short while,
You'll come back again
Regale the sick with tales
Far off lands and animals
Babylon and Alexandria

Letters will find you
'The sick miss you, dear one.'
Little sisters will wait at the docks
Big brothers will steer them to the inn
Brown boiling and sweet breads
Tell the younger of Africa and India, again?
To the deserts and wet monsoons will transport
Elephants and lions lost in excitement
The sick conjure up dream-stories
The star-gazers wait for the wind in night




_{Thank you, my darling
Big brother
I'll make sail soon.}