come upon a strange child mourning the cities of the plain

oh strange child why do yet cry for wicked mammon

does she not lie in ashes one hundred leagues hence

and all her bones have gone bleach beach white

below the surface under glass

deep in the bubbled marble

in the melted night

my cities crying out

one for the beggarman

one for the thief

one for the sugarman

one for the king

my skull keeps me in

the speed of a dream

i stumble all crumble all feint n fumble

i whirl and i twirl standing so very still

i hang on i bang on

n on n on non

i am not alone here

none of us

we are not alone oh ha ha no no

surrounded by friday night

connected up we all swim in the same sea

voices argue over something stupid

hands manipulate me as if from afar

lips kiss my forehead and then i briefly see

my eyes are seemingly shut

where can i go

voices bickering guffawing whispering

in here where i am

words occur to me from dead languages

i labour in pain i labour in love

i am between body and mind

i am soaked in 2010 and sinking in it

i talk to anyone with a kind voice

outside the shops i am another old stranger

in my pocket the keys that will not let me in

in my hand the coins that do not purchase anything

in my desk the tickets are all void

someone cancels my appointments

someone chucks out my clothes

someone closes and reopens my eyes

i claw at faux pas

i climb my baby fig

sometimes beautiful women seem ugly to me

sometimes my hearts in the wrong place

sometimes i wish i never met you steven

sometimes