White, Sick, a stone’s throw across the pond

From Midnight

The click click click of the second hand batters the skull

A fever crawls from the feet up, abandons the fingers

Like Ice

Silence, Hush, I can hear breathing


Masterpiece movies/ static audio gash the silence

We’re all fading fading, sketching. Dying

In the forty squares of walled loneliness

The eyes flicked open once the darkness churned out

From the sun

Across the horizon the sky is pitch

The sallow moon has dust on it, clean the windows wretch

The windows are filthy

And when the sky is pink and purple

The colour of joyful bruising

The fever is forgotten, the eyelids

Wilt as dead petals

The body is still and the breath is deep

And that hell-given loneliness

Is finally consumed by sleep