Light blushes as it spies my room,
where my wings twitter at my side.
My eyes are torpid,
and my head echoes disgustingly,
like a mongoloid.
These bars do not block the barks
and each night I lie awake, as a sick kitten.
They said vodka, albeit raspberry,
would not help. Though, my throat wanted it,
and my head longed to hang.
Perhaps from an awning. It has been so long.
I cannot be the cheesecloth girl
who tiptoes along my thoughts.
The sockets of my eyes will not let her out.
They grey and mould and fold along the edges,
like an invalid.
written: Sunday 26th November 2006, 2:53pm.
