Thursday, 25 November 2010


My feelings
are born deformed
with brittle bones
and cataracts
and holes in the heart

with tiny sharp teeth
they burrow under my skin for warmth
and tremble
when you walk past

Sometimes they get into my eyes
make them itch
make them follow your crumbs
your dandruff
like dirty starving pigeons

your hand disappearing round the corner
the back of your head in a crowded room

my eyes
the city sky rats
spreading fleas and madness
and this radioactive dust

so tell me

how are you
and how
are you
still here

I asked you to give me
a nuclear end of the world?

poem by a wild creature
photos: found here

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