A Cage To Hold My Dreams
Pardon Me For Dying On Your Doorstep
Pardon me for dying on your doorstep
My hollow skin is no match
For the slicing wind.
And all I have to comfort me is your promise
Of a better life that hangs like phoney
Ectoplasm from your perjured lips.
How many men have you garrotted simply
for pleasure ? How many babies
Were thrown onto fires at your command ?
Somewhere tonight you ride with headless
horsemen, screeching wildly,
galloping over bones picked clean
by your vampire cunning.
Remember I brought to you from Arabia
Exotic lotions to pamper your loveliness.
Remember the elegies
I composed in your honour beside a
flickering lantern. And the rivers
that I re-routed to fill your bath and how
often I played with your goldfish.
Have you forgotten the times I rode you
in the long grass, when our souls grew
from the same root, and cannons
roared and lights flashed and the music of
angels played above our heads ?
I never thought then that you would tire
of me so quickly, or that I would end up like
all the others, with my hands tied
and my throat cut,
dying like a pauper on cold, wet stones
Hertfordshire 120976
