I've stolen five minutes of this crisp and quiet night

The crackle soothes my brittle ears and

I smoke through my bones

No quality of silence here

I still hear hum and bustle behind glass wall

The boxes rattle by my right

Are rife with swollen faces and brittle brains

as my own trying to find their way home

They won't get there

not this time round

Dry lips and dry hands set in stone

Grip me by my bones

My crooked bones do all the talking

They file out and poison my shaky silence

as I poison their innards with blind bliss and lack of inhibitions

 

16/01/16