They Are Coming To Takeyou Away Aha

They are coming to take you away I dislike corners I know he will be standing there A real Parisian apache one leg resting on a wall of a closed down factory he is sharpening his stiletto and cleaning his fingernails Or a farmer after digging stony ground has had enough cuts my throat With his spade, a spray of blood and the land will be fertile again I could also walk home after an evening in the pub fall face down in a rain puddle where a yellow welly floats it could be so banal falling in the night when going to the loo a broken nose and no one can hear my muffled screams dying and and not saying anything divine. I have to buy a coffin it must be wide sleep in it every night wake up in the morning dead with sunlight on my face.