I happened on a mood
Like a ghost from the fog I saw myself.
Tasted the attraction
Followed it down the disused line.

Re-visiting stations of the cross I once bore
Recounting my routine
From feeling to oblivion
The solace was a myth
Still the image haunts me.

What now the summer wets
My mind a prune my arms are sticks
Everything is precipice,
Treacle legs complete the pudding,
Mashing the grapes.

The days run out
Breaths I measure, heartbeats I count
Smiles do not know my lips
Laughter never escapes my cell
The dark and the light know me of old.

I fasten a look to my face
Avoiding mirrors I purse my eyes
Am bound up in white linen
Unable to mouthe any words
Crash my head on the grass
Like a stone thrown.

I ponder my attitude, am I, is this futility? 
I want to tear my face off
Rejoin the crowd
Run away down the street
Chasing paper notes again
Building my entombment.

Awash me in peace in obscurity
Dazzle me with blandness
Tickle me bluntly
Fascinate my drizzle
Before I run on out again.

Tie me to the decks
Post a twenty four hour guard
Leave me no trust
I am well, Ha!