homeless thoughts carried home on the used crucifix
the white space rots within its spinning gravity
marble clean disinfected kisses
single standard sized rose -cut and red against
the washed scenery
realise that bollocks come in vases
And words slip in parades-sipped conversations
repair the dripping wallpaper
guilty fields of combed careful prescriptions
sober faced churches preaching locked doors
while drunks line up for Christ blood
and eager clawing rooftops collapse
when the sainted applause becomes the echo
went outside and buried my legs up to the knees
forced my head to stay cold
forced my growing heart to watch pinball stars heckle the shadow i knitted from the casting light
time for another casket
another thread of touch
after all if its all Bollocks whats not to enjoy