wind whips around the eaves,
whistling by the Velux,
rattling the back gate.

which consequences do I own,
whose hands are inside mine,
what veins belong to me,
and where do they lead?

what if the walls don't hold tonight?
what if they crumble and break?
and I get ****** out -
the contents of my room
shooting through the sky,
burrowing deep into my skin,
piercing the clear, cold night?

_________

It's settling down now,
but you always knew it would.
These things pass, and tomorrow,
you'll collect the detritus scattered on the road.

You sink deep into the pile
of old blankets
and duvet
and wisps of remembrance

You're safe here
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,
at least until tomorrow,