Wet Paper

A door slams outside

in the darkness.

-

Someone vomits and

drops a glass bottle.

-

It clinks,

but doesn’t break.

------------------------------

It’s hard enough to sleep when

Death keeps calling

your name.

-

Still self conscious,

You wince at its pronunciation.

-

Each syllable passes your ears

like a hornet’s sting.

------------------------------

Another night

just passing. Eyes closed,

but restless, sleepless.

------------------------------

I haven’t

cooked a meal for *****,

absorbing, openly,

the slop served on

the streets

and now my

insides,

they riot

more successfully than most.

------------------------------

Frowning at the ground

on aimless walks

knowing that I’m far

from where I should be

but still searching.

-

I have not had a positive thought for four days

or four weeks

months

years

-

who is to say?

My

-

watch broke some time ago and

since then I’ve just been guessing.

-

The sky ever grey, no telling

from its colours.

------------------------------

At a thousand

feet per second

I stumble towards

those places.

-

The soles of my shoes

must be made out of

concrete.

-

The soul in my head

has the strength

of wet paper.

-

A tired body

falls

and hits the ground again.