Sat
Jul
5
What You’ve Done
Down the passages
Through the insides
Cracks and crevices are filled with false
Mind’s a racket and collecting dust
As memories and medicine tussle about
And you forget my face as much as your own
You’ve nothing to own
But precarious pieces of crumbling plaster
Tumbling from ceilings of hollowed out rooms
You were asked to leave.
