Friday 7 September 2012

Phenylalanine

Walk on past the old street,
Beyond the stone courtyard,
The road eroding quietly
Becomes my daily path.

Couches, floors an sleeping mats
Make my bed tonight,
A different place a different light,
For my eyes to close to,
Complete me with the serenade,
Voices from the box,
Lights flash from front,
and then from back,
Until my head is off

Phones begin to speak to me,
from within the machine.
Who's at what end of what line,
which line do you defend.
With time I'll try and send again,
but noises stop the feed.
The message stops when winds on top.
Which line do you defend.

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