Fetch eyes mind the black coal walls
blocking stars, crawls across glass telescope shards shocking locked continents apart. Oceans infinite deep tears cried, from a billion child's eyes dried. Dark impaired, ink dry. Sand parched , Like the bones of ancient scrolls skin-pulled like a skin canvas across rib valleys and child hide. Dissolve like dust bowls on a clown terror ride. In a cattle truck clinging a tiny child 's side.
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Mule rising foolish raining beer rivers staining shoes
shaking , changing drinking gears grinding through grieving heaving, hulking foolish memory shoulders, grounded fallen onto gravelled, sodden drunken swirling bodies, flung in twirling circles, dancing from bars to pubs to bum haunts and dumps, raise the bar with a bar tab tip the waitress while she waits to escape , racing to skate by, delivering shots of fire or fizzy amber globules like lamp shades , displaying an insincere smile whilst males gazing through Mule haze, brazen, squint eyes trained making a paltry mosquito swipe at an amber beer stain. Aim. Aim. Aim. Aim again, this time connecting, realising the rejection after being rejected again. Hit the road, this time connecting with head and chin. That's enough its time to reverse and run like the wind. |
by Paul Sinclair
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November 2020
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