from the shrieking brick mountain i can see
skeletons grow deep in the car park
where birds do secret magic
and skyhook over greasy sheafs of pulp
shapes on the concrete collect,
distort and morph pulsing sickly like
broken hearts bloody in a
bag lady's bag hands
smoke drops balloon into prominence
i think it's a temperature thing
drift in and out of costume after
6 months of monsters and moths
carrying your corpse while you watch them eat
i sat silent next to the naked detective
incubating in his promotion chamber
threats of violence swell against you
pinwheeling the body into hysteria
and laughing your guts out
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