I am delirious, lingering from days
frayed at both ends, especially the head
and knotted in the middle, a rope tightened
round the heart, squeezing beats out
in stops and starts, oh but this is how
we play the game, it's sweaty palmed,
brow furrowed fun, with far too many clocks
cold halls to walk, amongst holy ghosts
tearing through white sheeted rooms, they haunt
or sometimes they bring invisible healing
placing flowers in colorful rings
and garlands circling round the bed
and in the night, only blue white light
to fill a room, basked in love
a tattered heart to mend