I.
Grave thoughts
Dragging me down
Through dirt and bone
And shifting sand
Sifting ash and shale
Forming a box of sorts
Four sided misery
Connected and connecting
Calling out
Then echoing back
A shock to the system
Cold and sinewy
Stringy like starch
But insatiable too
Like a complex drug
Deep down underneath
And growing.
II.
Drafty window
Easing into its sill
Like an old man into his bath
Naked and unashamed
Too late for all that
Easy on the senses
Conscious of decay
Made of dirt and bone
Fragmented into wholes
Separate and distinct
Yet twisted together
Complex dance partner
Shuffling a two-step
Holding tight
Knuckles white as stone
A knowing grimace
Reflective glass
Shining back
And blinding.
III.
A hotel in Chelsea
Abandoned from afar
Sheltered by rain
Falling down, down
Kissing dirt and bone
Solid and squalid
Conjointly afeared
Yet calmly deteriorating
Crumbling to earth
Melting into spaces
Long drained by time
Like blazing heat in July
Coming faster
Striving harder
Until it crescendos
Nature’s tragedy
Triumphant again
A shock to the system
A lucid dream changing shape
And fading.
Sam