i don't sleep well at night
sleep won't come, so
i pop a potion, guaranteed
to produce, and
fall into images
as if watching a film -
chewed up, spit from the reels
i believe in ghosts
a voice whispers,
low level electricity
flows through flesh
in spectral foreplay
i shake it off
and feel him grin
i have been cold since september
rain, like cold needles
tattooed the day on my back
the ink, heavy as mercury
threatens to break me
morning is my favourite time of day
the light is soft
and does not inflame
as it
shines
through
the still
open
wound
ga-ga goo-goo love poetry gags me
if i were asked to write of love
it would be tinged with the pain
pathos of a fool
it would come with a warning
this could scar innocent minds
that still deserve to dream
Gold trophy winner
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