I PAINTED MY ROOM BLACK-TO LIGHTEN THE DAY

Pick yourself up
dust yourself down
the shroud you wear
is borrowed from a clown
warm is the clay
not ready in visual display
create another imagination
yesterday has run away

plain words
are buried in cloudy little thighs
sexual advances
blind in the hungry disguise

daylight whispers
it creases through drawn beige curtains
strolls over last nights
piles of discarded delights
pacing and pausing
over the crested body of mine

a finger fresh from the darkness
scratches a small line into finely milled dust
love scampers from frame to frame
afraid to get caught
afraid of the flame

electronic jigsaws of solid peaceful blur
sit as the new gods
watched and watching
a single cobwebbed painting
cheaply brought for charity's sake
spends another career doomed until
fate eats the wall

the Body stirs
unlike the welcome coffee spoon
a leaden sky blessed in foot
slams onto the passing time
correcting any possible escape
weakly a wrist connects
urged on by this new found probability

the foot is lifted
and then so is time

a cryptic suicide
each day
filled in by vast empty spaces
or hurried pointless graces