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Night
My eyes bid me to sleep but my soul remains restless.
Of their own will my fingers dance; scribing
vowels, consonants, letters.
The mind is driven by ballads and poetry
yet the words are unworthy of paper.
I sit here looking into the vast blackness,
the haunting heavenly abyss.
It is though someone has pasted the world
with their piss. Black and poisonous.
Like fireflies the street lamps flicker,
failing to guide all those - but the unwanted-
home. Trees wheeze as lungs do when the sulphur tingles
their edges.
On nights like these the mercury pumps through my veins.
Expanding, expanding, explode!
All that is left; a bloody mess of string, tissue and bone.
