(By Sil, the 27th of July, 2011, London)
Staring at a screen I window-shop seduction
Glamour and song
The cross-section of a world
Where pain is articulate
And redemption is the sleek pomade
On a dandy’s moustache
Thoughts swarm like ants around a crust of bread
Collectables are rounded up and slobbered on
Relentlessly, concussively
I want to crush those trampling beasts
See them punctured like tulip bulbs in spring
I rail
I can’t dress up derail in gold string
Those who can do
Those who can’t – sting
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