Tick tock, tick tock, the caustic drip of time erodes. Scale and memory is embedded through fibres frayed on the shirt sleeve of obvious. Hearts ripped and torn by the flailing knives of thoughtless innocence.
The lingering pain of ignorance passed down until it no longer has any resonance to that time and place from whence it appeared. The remedy is to know there is no remedy, no hiding place within the cardboard sole that works but for a moment, the exercise so futile.
The stench of piss, the ignomy of separation between a rasher and a joint leads on to the house where no one lives, the hole in the roof shines no light into that soul so pure. Fighting to be heard above the silence, the deafening silence. Do I hear anything save that of the knock on the door that brings disappointment and delayed promise.
Get back sweet misery, the fruits of the fear sit here now and yet cannot ever gild the lily that wilts so readily before the reckoning.