Wednesday, 20 May 2009


I think they’ve found me,
I think I’m doomed,
For now they’ll hound me,
Until consumed.

A strobe lit ceiling,
A car door slammed,
And I fall reeling
From fate’s demand.

There goes the front door,
There goes it twice,
If it goes once more
It won’t suffice.

So now I’m down stairs,
So there’s no flight:
The back leads nowhere,
And I need light,

From which there’s silence,
From this dark hour,
But with dawn, violence,
Will me devour.

A voice calls outside,
A pressing roar,
“Is that the midwife?”
“No, she’s next door....”

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