The day imploded
came rushing in to remind me that the night
was but an amalgamation of those minutes
that pin the eyes awake.

I take two moments to acclimatise
unpin the pins pinned on my eyes
and the fading of the fading light finally fades and dies.
I look with infra dead between the lines
and intro sped along the times when all was well
and now it disappears into the room of absented fears
French leave for the grieving and believing I am one of them
the lonely buttered crusts of men I go on
and into further there where the sharp words cut my feet
and bleeding sorely thus I greet
the men to whom that I would speak
of better days
who in their ways have sold a million memories
to hang up on the blowing melodies that seem to crow at me
and if I listened carefully
would say but few words dolefully and this before the breakfast laid upon my lap
the dripping sap
another buttered crust
any yet another dream that turns to dust
but in the cream jug where the poison lies and remnants of the dying light prefer to hide and sit upon the milky way
the lay of it appeals
in laying down something unreal can steal this mind of mine
and use it in some future time to come
cryogenic
hallucifrenic
and I am going down the tubes
before the slide that carries me into the beginning of my darkest day
I say,
'if I would walk a second,fecund and mount the insurmountable'
would I be accountable to myself or to those crusty men?
and to the lady,she who knows where this road goes and leads me to its ending
in the twist and bend will you defend me
fight for and lend me strength?

What is the length of illness measure
what treasure does it hold and
and what on being told the answer
would I answer in return?
The fever of the brow and how the body burns
and burn in turns like you
and we together
would we be forever
severing all ties
even as the fading of the fading finally fades and dies
and can you tell me
can you tell
can you
can.
A crusty buttered dusty battered and man to whom that nothing mattered would like to know
before I go.