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■ The oak
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the nights are restless
the sound of traffic is suffocating my lungs drowning in acid rain i reach for the skies their crystal blue is fading so i manage to catch a tired rainbow and wrap it round the tropic of Capricorn just in case my dignity’s gone the sun keeps staring at me through the holes of the ozone layer and is, honestly, making my skin crawl the smell of gun powder is overwhelming i keep waving it off cloud after cloud but it keeps coming back with a vengeance year after year my beauty’s warn out my resources scattered i could do with a face lift although i believe i'm too old for this i swear on my last few icebergs that i never felt like this before: exhausted...
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