The end fell long ago

What is left

What’s felt

From clusters of emoted thoughts 

Your go-go

Your neglected theft

The tear, the eternal fragile naugh-

Ty doll behind the safety glass

What makes you cry into the starless night?

The light of snow 

And the twitching fuss

Whatever happens that could be so right

Whatever happens that could feel so wrong

Stops the delusion of the destined break

And bend, and vent and lent and time to crawl

The wall will stay

Another time to fake 

Too fake

Too useless 

Would be no good 

It’s understood 

It is, but not your pride

Explore the place in closed neighbourhood 

And take another ticket for a ride

And take another ticket where the death

Waits at the funeral of your diluted youth

Your middle age, princess,

Jeunesse, obsessed,

Obese,

Obsession with the possessed illusions

Of the promis of the spring

In the November

Of your failed attempts

The string, the sting, the ring, the rink, the ink,

Pale Thames.