I was more prolific when he was pissing me off
But now we seem to be in some eye of some storm.
There’s an electrically charged calmness
a suspicious quiet
and I’m afraid to turn my head.
I’m uninspired by the stillness. the inverse of chaos. the anti-place.

My friend was shivering last night.
My best friend.

The words coming from her beer-dried lips were not words.
It was more than a drunken Mantra or
a checklist of people and a catalog of apologies.
The words meant something.
One regret above the rest?
One mistake too many?
or was it everything?
every pulse point converging into one pain
hit with a circular blow fine-hysterical-fine-hysterical-shaking/crying-fine-hysterical
ambulance-doctor:

‘why are you drinking if you’ve got an ulcer?’
-cause i’m simple.
‘why are you drinking if you’ve got an ulcer?’
-cause i’m crazy. take me to Gransha.
she knows Gransha, she goes to visit her Granny
every Monday and Thursday,
every Thursday and Monday.

We’ll take her home now,
her words are words again
she’s asking for crisps and crunchy bars
because the canteen is long shut and they don’t sell sandwiches from the vending machines in the corridor.

Sleep now, shhhh
Quiet love,
sleep in the eye of your storm.
I’ll feed the dogs.