The light bulb blinks at me, like its own brightness makes it squint And wink like I used to when I looked into the sun. The white tiles gleam under the harsh light and I see the lint,
The sickest thought in my sickened head Is the sickest wish for sickness. As I exhale grey spectre breath Twisting and changing in thickness I read the warnings in black and red:
Ravens dine under corvine skies On carrion wed with blood red wine, A bouquet of hellebores fresh from the vine, A ghostly figure weeps my monody fine,
Let us play Pooh-sticks with breeze blocks over the motorway And hear the brittle smashes of metal fishes beneath us; What a way to spend a summer’s day!
