Secondary Hell

the city sleeps.

sin rises like a dirty
vapour from off the crazed
paving stones
and permeates the darkness

sadness and regret
fall
like dirty grey
snow upon the stiffening
corpse

it sat there alone in its perspiring
womb.

this, then, is the night,

No emotion’s left inside,
I’m dead but will not die.
Instead I hang upon my cross,
And slowly crucify.

the rain does not wet her, nor the
sun give
warmth.

out of a cardboard box like twin
kangaroos

curled up
in the police cell
like a poisoned
rat or a dry
leaf
he looks only
inward.

a lie is like
my lover’s
lips

blood is on
her
finger tips

she sits alone in the turgid
darkness, her swollen breasts
full as a gourd, empty as
sin;

In the clinging mist
she knows no words but death

I have you stuffed on a
wall of my house; in a cabinet
made of dark glass and human
flesh.

So aren’t you glad you are now a free man
Free to be slaved to our debt as you can

Do not worry about Un-executed Warrants served
Or the denial of Legal Aid for all and me

I dreamed of you
the other night,
and the way
you left a trail
of dead children

It was my fault you lost your job;
I must have been some pointy-hatted
Sorcerer who had bewitched you,