Long Night... Poem by GRANT FRASER

Yeah a skin, this skin,
pare another,
so the frames of living
at least
are seen to be
somewhere?

like a blank mantle
shortly after
the mind shuts down,

and the poetry of four
walls are left there, bare,
where are they...

christ - have a thought,
yeah...life isn't that interesting
second by second, to minute, hour,
day, life time...

or toilet roll,
and a red & white
half squeezed tube of toothpaste,
frozen on a shelf,

for you to spread out,
a new white domain, glaciar!
smell of peppermint,

with a blood drip,
so red,
period!
why not - yes,
and a crimson red cushion,
slightly crumpled,
by a body, freshly left...

oh! but it is torn,
and last night,
hopping around at 2.00AM,

CURSING OUT LOUD - FOUR LETTER WORDS!

****! ****! ****! ****!

alone with shapes
scattering along floors,
in all four corners,

even 400mg of Ibruprofen,
couldn't kill it!

or a host of firm erections,

when the night is all yours
and painfully mean,

just waiting patiently for
the whole thing to go away,

hands prayered between
firm warm thighs,

blood beating!