May all of it be forgot
All beyond her name.
Close yourself a whiskey
And try the view.

Sleep it off a little
Whilst your eyes run -
She rises in mumuration
Over Edinburgh.

Between each move,
There's more in the space
And imagination remimagines
Your place here.

It felt a bit like acid,
It felt a bit like worry,
And it liked your half-cooked
Self-aggrandisement;

Using the wrong words
To express familiarity,
The lagoon of music
Keeping you inside.

But now looking at the end of a glass
Where the view blurs,
You touch your eyes
With your bare fingers.

There's a false promise of fire
Over the tourists' perch,
But here is where it already
Consumes the night

You whisper for it
And the hot, raging end
Beckons you to visit
The future caverns