Damp curtains come under attack,
Doors and windows volley free,
Enter the tempest, enter the shadows.
The clavicle hurts right before it rains,
A bed of twisted wings,
A halo now silver quick,
Between the pillows and wounded sheets.
Hair strand on toilet seat,
Stray cats have moved in,
Enter the madness,
And the thick aroma of ruthless cat shit,
And my kidney, peter and wallet are amiss.
I feel my chest,
There is some soul left.
What day is it? I ask.
The cats and shadows are too cool for me.
“And the rest is rust and stardust.”

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