Fused

on these streets 

where drunken shepherds

lead their flocks to drink,

tired honey holes used for tricks

drugs and worn-out noses 

dripping blood from last night’s fuss,

I miss you so much, 

there’s always a tale left to tell

of the times we knew so well,

we’ve got to set the record straight

don’t wait up, I’ll be home late,

chewing fat and spitting sawdust

beyond the night

until the dawn chorus,

within the daylight 

where the passionless dwell

you think you’re blessed? 

immune from hell 

I’d love to delight you 

with the splendours 

of my former life, 

where I cut my throat 

with a blunt knife 

I cascaded through the blood river

as it drained, 

dripping into crevices 

of an overtly monumental precipice 

that was far too steep to scale

I can’t go off the rails

I need to be here until the end

we’re fused to this life 

as husband and wife