All your beautiful creations
Rot underneath the heel
Of bated breath, once warm, gone cold
Which witnessed writhing death

It reached its slender fingers in
And plucked out every heart-string
Till all the air reverberated
With hopeless dreams and dead-end letters

Cropped tongue and sentence
Amongst the wreck
Of a thought that came off
The railway tracks

Left seething, restless, a blackened stone
Where tender beat met the sixth rib bone
To weigh a heavy anchor, from the clouds
Leaving nothing,
But doubt