Its job centre weather,another mid afternoon first thing,
From beds edge to bathroom I wash my jawbone and piss,
Then back to my window for a fag.

Candy fingers bar top tapping with the beetle crawls,
His swollen bones,his jaw response unsure,
Whisky slur and happyless private frowns
And barking quarrels at spectators.

Just before sleeping
Clear in the blue before dawn
Smoking and listening to planets in spin
The mind is sure of the turn
And the imminent sun
And resigned of whisperings
For a single voice,