50km in one night,
a volcanic isle beneath my feet.
Sober, though far from straight ,
as the hours passed in painful increments.
Ulcers nipped at my heels,
parasites birthed in my gut.
50km one night,
only distant memories of peace,
only laughing eyes,
and pints of goodness in Donegal,
messages from the near dead,
calling me home to face the music,
the music I often faced alone.