She sits there by the cash machine
with her coffee cup of coins
Punctured skin displayed
Braille spelling
"I need to take away the pain"
She is sat where I sat
Not exactly there
But... well
That was long ago
The haze of the night... what is my card number?
Third attempt failed
The machine takes the card
The bank takes everything
It is a long walk home
To a warm home
In cold rain
Numb

I become more erudite at night.
I feel a sprite within me ignite words,
by candlelight I feel the old masters lift their quills,
place nib in ink and nib to paper.
I invite their words and imagery to suffuse me,
use me in this modern world.
Make new what once was old.

Where nib would glide I touch my screen,
watch avidly as sentences appear,
magic symbols transformed to meaning,
like runic stones of old, or bones thrown for reading.
My words by candlelight enfold and embrace me,
in the knowing language of the poets, bards and storytellers.
Tonight, I delight at my copywrite scribed by candlelight.

Death
is
the
home
of
maggots.
I
am
its
carrion.