The Cam passes through
behind a chain hotel belonging to the Hilton
with its lights always on, a 24 hour midnight sun,
that lasts all day until a power cut comes along
and covers bedroom maids, halfway through a job,
in complete silence.

And home I go, slight lightening in the distance and
the road remains long, bending only once
and carrying on straight thereafter
mounting another road heading south until it meets no more ground,
except a bridge over a mouth of a river leading
to somewhere safer than here ever was.

My coat's corners misses your hand
and no expanse of green, mountainous land
could ever be sold or swapped for it.

for it was never my intention
to be a puppet with a frown
perhaps you won't believe it
sitting under a liars crown

I've cut myself for long enough
that blood is my middle name
basking naked upon a concrete slab
I've oft been fed back my own shame

so take all these letters, mix them up
juggle them gaily to become verbose
for they have fallen,  at feet
that have stopped walking
just litter, ash, carrion at most

So kiss me on lips
coated in poison

and wish me well

For I am off to a more acrid clime
where secrets will often tell
that hiding behind a wordsmiths spine
will see me burn in hell