The streets are empty
Unsure unsteady
On my feet
Head clogged
After rains
Filthy water
Clotted and bubbling over drains
I eat the chocolate
In the corner of the dark room
The smell makes me dribble
The sugar makes me shake
The dark room is
The only place left for me
I am not sure it tastes good
But I need it
Everybody needs it
The rush
The hit
The immaculate fix
Nobody is fat these days
The chocolate gets old
As powder blushes finger skin
The man who fixes feet says it will be ok
For a second I believe
But a second does not fill one whole day
He cannot fill the holes
It scares me walking
In the wet
Dead birds
Half cut snake
The powder clots my breath
I labour to the top
As if from the top I will see
But the top won’t shake off the bodies
They slither and slide on every thought
One thought
Only ever one thought
I do not look up
I do not look into the eyes of that thought
That thought won’t stop
Without stopping me
Whatever that might be
Her little cotton dress
Gets soaked in the rain
It is white
Like a ghost
The rain sticks the cotton to her body
In fire
In fury
Her black underwear matches her black boots
Strong boots
Heavy boots
Boots that will last forever
She leaves her purple cursive script
Crumpled in the grass
Away from the birds and the snakes
I pick up her words
Her hand
It tastes nicer than sugar
Maybe we shall
Maybe we shall.
