does he weep?
upon seeing, oh
the chaos that
comes from
his supple fingers
working like needles
sewing a cloak of 
therapy and night time 
eyes open hall light on
does he weep?
in the woodshed
where it dribbles
down his thigh
the good stuff
a snail trail
the windows
unclean for a reason
yellowed net curtain
just incase 
just incase
prying eyes come spying
lies come tumbling
from chapped lips
your never too young
for makeup
and the pocketmoney
comes in handy
does he weep?
at what is dead
what is dead?
grass is dead
holding hands is dead
the spiders in the shed
are dead 
dead at the 
windows which
are dirty
for a reason
eyes are dead
but lies are alive
and she doesnt know
and she doesnt know
and she wont ever know