Bones of a Horse

The silence was deafening
As the pin hit the tile
A mouth filled with bile
And legacies of regret
Mix with the sting of defeat
Sit and watch all your plans
Wither in the cold daylight
Bleaching the bones of a horse
They’re fragile things
Like “gossamer wings”

They pump out a gas
Don’t even smell
Desaturates the air
And all the colours drain
With a chemical rain
Like burning meat
Tastes much the same

Somewhere in a tiny cell
The spark of suffering begins
And somewhere in the back of my head
There’s a hole where they took control
With a silver needle
A hole in my mind
Deep where all my memories lie

28th March 2008

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