WAS I EVER REALLY THERE

Laid across an acrid burning tongue
i dwelt far from fortunes humble praise 
a large piece of time was bleeding in the centre of the womb
written on the cream and weathered walls
were burnt poetic offerings
romantic razors cutting deep the hearts plea

just three faded photographs
framed in the evenings glow
each one in turn falling to lay face down
tiny escaping clouds of dust ,whispering in gossip 
was i really ever there

The undertaker was thrashing his fist
on the enamel painted door
his shrouds borrowed on a drunken delight
now pledged there honour 
hanging from my widows edge

This thing keeping me in
prison of scabbed creased painted flesh
what could be released
after a knives feast
old scars and the fingers counted
haunted arrested in open cremation 
was i ever really there

Silence and beauty missed
what monster waits behind the sighted gate
forgive the weighted moment
im held suspended beneath the saints tears
was i ever really there

the black blank slate
rises from the earths gums 
a rotted tooth
ancient altar awash with worship
forgotten as the wind would wipe the misty day away
scribbled into a mud dribbling fool
these words

Was i ever really there