Stale sandwich fodder
Mute fingers twitch,
In the rainy dark
Pattering from splinter glass
Not the clock?
Old moods weigh glumly
Edge of bed dull bit lip,
As rotten teeth
Words in the isles wait
Sucking the air.
Shadowy girlish bundle
Fixes her lush bed hair
Eyes turns too
Making pleases in the dark
Ahead of you!
"Now grips deeply of hair
Cracks rare egg skull
In through wall"
Such hushed mind visions
Nothing stirs.
"Now gnaws flea fashion
At his immovable eyes
Snatches at neck"
Her sudden malice sight
Not to hurt.
Grotesque lips tremble
Inside old dead wood,
Bedside cabinet
Rings of stained grime tea
Our maudlin face?
Words a damp bath robe
Hangs upon door hook,
Un-wordable now
She brings him a cup of tea
He sips she said!
In the long think to night
Suffering pastel picture,
Upon our torso
Go now your strange wintry ways
-She says!
