The old tricks don’t work anymore.
The antiquated armour has rusted to dust.
The Ancient walls came down
To let emptiness flow in like a river.
I guess this is what its like.
To subside on clichés and handouts.
I revisit hunched old haunts
An addict’s ghost unable to let go.
Tweaked, torn & twisted, unrecognizable form
No longer trying to fly to mountain peaks,
Just trying to raise my head above the gutter.
–Jack Blare, Impersonating Emotion (2015)