Wednesday, 12 April 2017


Put in my place,
a hanging basket of weeds,
for all to mock,
I hear you say 'forgive'.

Not knowing how to start,
I ask you to remember me,
as light begins to stalk,
Your frank assurance drops,
pick-pocketing the fear
of these ticking clocks,
with a word in my ear,
'Today you will be with me'
in paradox.


White trash-lovers, Freaks for all they’re worth, Anarchy in beady, brazen faces, Seizing stares, Standing ground...