Monday 31 May 2010

Like a Child

Never just an unmade bed but a sock stuck to the duvet,


beat the beat the beat in my ear running through my fingers


lost clothes and accessories of a pig farm, rotten thought with sharpened tongue and dulled wit


searing suggestion and anticipation, reach up reach. reach.


in a tree high above the ground that looks so small and useless when the sky looks so big and attainable.


power behind me licking at my back and my feet


Lost in a haze, mellow and confusing, easing pleasing


escape or awake

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