From the comforts of dressingness
Stay and uncrease.
Savour custard and broken plates
Which find happy reuse
Like locked doors concealing precious
recyclables
i mean accidentally broken glass
which once told past in colour.
Unrelenting shivers from the closets
Closets?
Yes, a couple of broomsticks and mop-heads.
The better romance you can find.
The cleaner, the clearer.
The stare-inducing mirror, which, observe,
elicit happy mute screams of suction power.
Yawness as happiness - my new quote.
Stillness today.
The remainder of nothing new.
Still staring outward in with the blank-guard's eye.
Happy prison, watchful freedom.
Drowning in a carpet of hope
and the dust of the future.
The strange uncrackability of faith.
Like disease, it feeds on the past.
Barrel born history and a seaworthy fool.
Hell-hives. Barnacles. Plaster so stiff its emotion.
Pirates cast themselves into ponds to declare their love of ducks.
Therefore, England,
can, and should, sink.
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