A Brush of Mortality.

A brush of mortality

Visited me in the dead of night.

What if this place were to catch fire?

Which hastened window would I disturb?

Surveying my final scene, I was warmed

By the glow of the city lights,

Resting on the ground as electric plankton on a seabed

And the warm below

Rising, rising

As though the world is a constant marionette

For an indifferent god.

 

No, no, what may I do to stop this place catching alight?

Helplessness burns

Almost as much as the triviality of our last

Conversation. In the heat of the moment

Deciding our direction, we kissed a passive kiss.

I’ll see you by the rosebuds,

And in your most wistful thoughts…

Cotton consumes,

As I laugh at the ambulance siren in the distance.

 

Laughter. This was because the last time I saw it,

A German was choking on the street.

He was one of those god made in the image of the

Walrus

And he and his wife are looking beaming

As tourists feeding off the sweat of the market seller

Thinking words are expendable,

Whilst I’m sitting here accepting the truth.

I am born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.

 

Let me be reborn a Kaiser

I’ll set the world alight.

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