where the smaller people go.
we were guided by the lights of Ilfracombe.
check-mate and foe as one
we have shielded oh too many times
loves odour through the language of a cat.
nine times each we have slain loves stocks and shares.
our kingdom was our own, it was lush
it was a blood-rush high of cortisone.
our muscles lost in the day-to-day
our bones repellant sprays on a nervous twitch.
no sacrirfice.
no treasured buried secrets stunning eyes.
it is peaceful here.
all eyes are lost and look their seperate ways.
it is glorious and dull
where the smaller people go
to cast aside at wind-speed our heir-apparent must.
which of us will dare the first to touch?
she has skin. she has a heart.
she has room enough for two in her heated pulse.
which one of us will set a scene
act out a fantasy
and be tied down with the ribbons of her knees?
it is cold down here
where the smaller people go.
touch it. make it grow.
I promise not to freeze;