You started out, looking just like me
And when we split off at the fork in that other mother
It had somehow turned into another world

Just another path, a routine substitution

Extrusion is a superficial game
Bone, bile, skin and muscle
And nothing more
As at the end
We end the same

When at best,
It’s clouds burnt into our eyes
And not fluorescent lights

Your tears don’t dissolve to holy water
Like the butter in your mouth
So watch them fall, come pull the cotter
Or project your sadness on a wilted spath

There’s no safe words, safe space
This is real life, not a fantasy
Sludging down a landslide
Drowned in the reality, Figaro.

Today Fido’s lost his bones
Yesterday Teresa lost her mind
A blind madwoman, Vanga was
Tell me, when I look inside
What am I gonna find?

A capsule of some sordid colour
Sense of false justice and a face so sour
Bone, bile, skin and muscle
Nothing more, yet so much less