Thursday, 21 May 2015


as I take my place in the food chain
put the knife down
and move away from the knife

there's a chair out in the yard
mass produced molecular
feeling sorrow for foxes
it waits for me to act
now nightmares sleep in the craw

all the lights were on
but a wailing gash of illumination
generates demonic colour
the type you only see
in the dark

all the happy snappers
queue up for a murdered man
sorry to disappoint you viewers
this isn't an agro scene
it's not even disease or malfunction
it's the chronic disorder of defeat

they gawp and show their friends
this horror show
and lick their lips
for another flash of hyper colour fear
branded into their hearts

a shadow snake slips inside
my exhaustion
a guardian through a cracked window

we are foxes
chased by hide and seek
round a chair
trying to break glass 


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