Sunday 18 December 2011

Last of the lost Cosmonauts


I saw a man take his soul,
And smash it on a table top,
Shards caught in his clothes and hair,
He walked upright, but only through habit,
And he spoke, but only by mimicking,

He sleeps sound, like the way babies don't.

This bleak and comforting view from Worlds End,
Holds me above it,
Crawling through pipes and tunnels underground,
I found a place I could nearly be happy.


M

No comments:

Post a Comment