Every Night

As though my existence is coming out through my eyes

the hammer and chisel is taken to the shell of a clam,

closed up with something within though nobody knows what.

A transparent nerve screamed through with electricity shouts

"I can't sleep, I can't eat..." and "It's killing me..."

Though the audience stay silent and wait for the drama to stop

as the curtain falls and I shuffle away on my back.

Drained of spirit - I am a ghost who haunts the play each night.

There's no encore and so I run an inch away from the hounds

- my legs tremble as the anvil clenched to my brain hits the floor

and shatters. There are bruises on my arms though nobody

can see who or what has hit them. They are reddened as the

blood comes to the surface, aching and exhausting with curses.

The constant curse is a lime on my kitchen table, sliced in half

and shot through with a toothpick and a raspberry.

The lime squeezes out the last of its juice and the raspberry has

grown moudly. The toothpick snaps in half - the ruin is complete.

My hands tighten as I remember that there is one night left

again and again and again.

And every night since.