Too many nights I lie awake

The serpents spinning webs in my brain

I shuffle my thoughts like a deck of cards,

Whistling out tunes about broken hearts.

I quarrel within, the milk-man begins

Bringing my panic in glass jugs and jars.

Every night I simmer, undying quitter

I swerve to avoid any glimmer in the dark.



Let spill the sizzling hilt of sword

that dams your flooding blood with steel

the lapping blade, its greedy stains

which bring the coping rain.


My vision blurs, I sink and swirl

and every cell within.

my poison will never win

I vomit ink to cure the meat

of pages of empty sin.


Make me a steak of refusal-fate

and I’ll spit in my hand and grin.

I’ll slay whatever filthy hound

would cut my bile with gin.


I don’t know who I am when all these wordlets nip my skin