I don't know what my innards want
Exploding here and sinking there
they seem to want me to pretend
that before the pain was nothing there
and so they sit inside a cage
built around the story I know
Their tubes entwine with a mortal loss
of what was once imperious fun
they bend around my other mind
eager for its peace and void
filled with the weekend's perilous junk
that hides the truth that got annoyed
they simply want to flow with me
but don't have time or energy
so sluggishly they move in the rhythm
of a london tube stuck on it's own line
hoping that their green light comes
amidst the reds of bodily strife
and speedily make way to light
just as I will bring them rest.
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