Early nineties,
they found a box behind reception labelled ‘lost anatomy’
opens it,
finds his voice.
They took our sounds for granted and crossed the lines ‘till the only thing our lips could do was flail,
they plugged us in with wires but no amps, back into the whitewashed walls and tied us up in graffitied corners, all the places where political shadows do nothing but lull out anaesthetic.

Mocked scenes from final destination,
the one where the subway train collides
encounters America’s tired hum and buzz.
The television upchucks static and we don’t know why it’s still switched on.
A child’s hand reaches out and plucks a seashell from an afro,
tries to hear the sea.
Looping, rippling and losing his rights each time a wave hits the shore.

The invisible nooses around our fingers rifle through an open book.
They told us that that much candy can rot your teeth
and the hand works its way up a room with a view where
tights aren’t tight
but no one ever notices the old man at closing time,
crying at the clocks.

10pm
knocked off the nightstand,
tonight it rains
cold coffee.

He awoke on frozen concrete,
The broken glass.
Locked door, let the house run down around us,
At least we’re safe, right?
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
said our youth was a tragedy.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent screaming, kicking ourselves out the door, glass limbs.
Your hands fumbling over the catch of the lock, unmending the hinges.
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Throwing itself, disembodied and disfiguring
onto the floor.
We were empty in that last glass,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing
To his sleeping form
It would glue itself back
Together

Together,
It would glue itself back
To his sleeping form.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
We were empty in that last glass,
onto the floor,
Throwing itself- disembodied and disfiguring-
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Your hands fumbling over the lock, unmending the hinges.
Glass limbs.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent... screaming, kicking ourselves out the door,
Said our youth was a tragedy,
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
At least we’re safe... right?
Locked door, let the house run down around us...
The broken glass.
He awoke on frozen concrete.