Wednesday, 9 March 2016


this is where the bear died that day 
this is where he walked away
this is my hollow tube that radiates no more
this is where I've locked the door

I've thread this far somehow, some way 
the nights they bow, the days they pay
in search of life, lost long ago 
in search of answers, none known what for

in the shroud of darkness, the truth emerges 
not in kindness, rather ruthless savages 
all I want contradicts all I need 
the plate's empty, there is no feed.

another line to waste, another end in bad taste.