(first version)
Vintage mirrors
and shining bars
the rapid tap of
plastic cards
a chop and hiss
breaks the taste that hits
peppers that point between
lips and panic
your hands
vanish and a sneeze makes
magic
(second version)
Broken doors
Vintage mirrors
and shining bars
the rapid tap of
plastic cards
a chop and hiss
breaks the taste that hits
peppers that point between
lips and panic
your hands
vanish and a sneeze makes
magic the system of believing
that which we see
the framework under which
we give our lives away
toil and slave
and yet the rules
are never really the same
the broken doors will never open
for some they are locked behind walls
and thugs never let them see the pain of day
the height of the thing that you remembered you bought
It was not very believable
it was not a bolt of dark reason
a wrapped up sentiment or a pale imitation
a well worn welling of well worn silk
garments floating upon updraughts
the wind and the weather
that moment your hands
return to the ends of each arm
the moment that breath you took is returned to banker