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Sunday, 2 January 2011

Cut Feet

Yet somehow once again it seems
As though all goes to shit
Despite the fact that things aren't bad
There's something wrong with it.

We clatter fall and shudder
All colliding tumbling far
Freefalling, gliding dropping
And don't know where we are

Or even where we should be
We're just clashing about
Restless aimless and painless
And we cannot get out.

Clattering on shattering
Ridges, now with cut feet
Panting breathless, staggering
Grasping blind, incomplete.

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