Overdubbing useless cassettes,
Reworking wires dictating the head,
Catching cold and hot in both hands,
Juggle emotions while perusing our land,
Fireplace burst with impending rage,
Shimmer with the lustre of pollen grains,
Mixcraft bring until an individual loss,
Swing like the pendulum whatever the cost,
Call of the fallen in their fog masked play,
Appearances and anger never will say,
Forbidden and forgiven such interesting doors,
Dare not be opened for talons and claws,
Bottleneck of suction without void to be filled,
Weakened by dryness the siren has spilled,
Morning is sullen before the lowing of milk,
Here in the city we sleep under silk,
Captive of culture then ripe to exploit,
Broken and waiting for nature to appoint,
Roots deep and strong through teary bloody sweat,
In this second universe you are already dead.
Rowan Blair Colver