I fail at sleeping

in a show of unconditional accusation, the reproachful slander of your hereafter,

amongst the placid hours,

I try to be the grand man, but I shake too much

unhinged by the overreach of my skeletal height

much to the delight of every unskilled whistler

tough love and rougher hate interprets the shuddering motions, as my left hand lingers

over a poss...

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you are ticking the subscription of a shotgun smile

the restless reminder, the stranger behind you,

twice barrelled quarantine of lush glories

tar fingered around the ringed copper, broken and unworthy,

smoking in the buttoned up knowledge of hereditary tracts,

winter tracks and the plastic penance of a youthful slaver

“x” shan't mark the spot where we shall bury you

a shallow...

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