Tuesday, 19 January 2010


Weaving through crowds of bone and ash
You pour through the crack you drip from the tap
You stretch me thin like drum skin
Leaving me too far stretched to stave attack

In the coloured words and fragrance
Your masquerade on ice
Fragile beauty splinters
like incense smoke in light

You lead me out and push me
Headlong, Forlorn, Uptight.

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