The table is wobbly! - Vignette.

Ouch! Fucking

ouch!

Slits swelling shut

lids stealing

plumpness from pillows

of enamel.

Dragged, drugged

under the duvet

fused, fraying

knots, femurs spitting

bloody bruises along

sandpaper skin,

blackened pores, pouring bloody

prisoners back to the

surface.

Gut gripping,

graceful fingers

drumming,

starvation, seeking

gluten, gifted bile,

saliva swimming pool

shrinking appetite, shrivelling seeded apathy, absence.

Toes twisted,

mercilessly mashed sausages,

shoes, soles

missing metaphorical

sanctuary,

itching heels, keeled over,

scrunched such as a

trampled takeaway sack, keening for

wet dirt, wet eyes,

soaking in a shower of

sympathy, a symphony of

screams soothed to silence,

chorus of chains crying out

from abolition, from feared absoluteness.

Will we repeat today, tomorrow?

We will repeat today, tomorrow.

we will repeat today, tomorrow…

… will we repeat today, tomorrow?