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Janie’s in hospital and we’re all going to die.
Janie was us, was the lifeblood, keeping us together and now she’s just that tiny black dot inside her, like the doctor drew on the paper.
“This was her brain” he said, and pointed to the sheet, some ridiculous pure white, like that was ever her
“And this is her now”
Green flashes in the night
That dot was so tiny and then the kids were whining like they always damn do and I didn’t even have time to grieve for her, lying like some stupid human vegetable on that hospital bed, and now we’re all going to die, ‘cos they’re onto us.
Hot red coldness
“Rea! Kayla!”
We have to run, we always have to run, down Brick street and onto Windsor with Janie’s memory chasing us like a ghost the whole time, and the bloody cops behind.
Cold blue
Kayla’s feet are sore and Rea can barely move, but we have to go as fast as we can, and they know what will happen if they get us, it’ll be the dark for us, it always is.
We duck and force ourselves onwards, past the posh houses, curtains closed, turned inwards cos they don’t want to know about us, ‘bout the girl who got some stupid brain disease, ‘bout her brother and those damn kids who’re running again, like they always are, running from the government and the slave traders and that big black building on the end of Market street.
Sour purple
Here’s an awning, flapping in the rain, and stairs, who cares where they go, ‘cos it’s away from the street and that’s what matters.
What matters is that they don’t get us
Take us
Turn us into those things that haunt the streets and chase and make us hide
Dark rain
Feet pounding and Rea slips but we grab her and carry on, chased through the night while Janie just lies there, like an angel on her hospital bed.
I wonder what she’s thinking, if she’s thinking, if she can think.
The whitecoat said it’s shut off most of her brain, that she can’t think like we would call thinking, that her tiny dot of consciousness is mostly concerned with colours and tastes and touch, useless stuff she couldn’t have cared less about.
Salt ice
Hot breath in my ear ‘cos Kayla’s on my back now which means I can’t run so fast, and I don’t like that, but I promised Janie I wouldn’t leave her brats and I don’t break promises.
But I’m going so slow, barely covering ground now and they can find us oh so easy if they want.
Pearl white
They want
Pitch black
No shoes and its hard to carry on, past shop fronts; no broken glass here, no barbed wire, just trees and autumn leaves, and some freaks probably thinking that the rain drumming on their roof is nice, pretty, they don’t know what it does to us do they?
How can they?
Water slick on the cobblestones and I can hear yells behind, flashlights, we’ve been running for hours, but they have dogs and shoes and food, and who are we?
Corpse brown
Just orphans, that’s who, no-one wants us, needs us, get rid of us, that’s the way to go.
At least we can be of some use to them, but godammit I don’t want to help them so run
Flash yellow
Run faster or they’ll get you, but we all know we can’t go any further, and I can’t leave them ‘cos I’d be betraying her and you mustn’t, you mustn’t betray her cos she was everything, never just a dot on the paper, in her head, never ever ever.
Muse green
Dead end, nowhere more to run they’ve got us trapped, surrounded
Blood red
Faltering steps
Useless nothings
Stop
Lie down
Give up to the
Sweet dark stardust
good job.
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