Ward, 2:18 amTear soft and againFlaky hand forest with droplet bushes of redLandscape of pain psychosisStinging under artificial heatWho can tell who wants youjust physical.Push wet dry bare breast press soft stopkissing me I can'tBreathe. Sat in cold hard pale grey floor wardPearl elbows down doves bone outlined nowOversized soft sheen white sheet echo sounds high.Wait. Two minutes early clean neat office smellBlue woollen chair sat fingertips agitationLike new shoes waiting fitting leather smellFall asleep recalling old tales watching ticksClock black and white pens alignedand blank boxes. Old tricks. Should I lie?Back to cool spill over growing curveRuined my shirt. Stop lying you can see itNow it's on me now it's been getting to meFor a while now but all disguises are comfortableagain. Breathe on window car moving Silence from stranger red rage blue weatherSimple as colour calm smiles arranged timesWhat would she know about it?