sal carter

Grey street corner
A frozen room
Lonely bed
A dying moon
...

Veins bulge upwards out of your rugged hands, criss-crossed with lines,
Pumping hardworking blood around your body,
Your blood, my blood,
...

The musty smell
hangs
weightless in the air.
...

Mohawk standing like a battle flag,
Darkened eyeliner, metal-cut nose and lips,
Flesh carved into words exposed on his bare back,
Low slung belt, with chain heavy jeans.
...

The tracks scream out beneath the train.
...

Shot down at dawn
The dew still plucking at the mud.

The lions stare
...

and burn, burn,
to the smoke in the sky,
burn, burn, burn,
the night’s a wolf’s cry,
...

I wait.

Silently.
...

I Lie. On the dusty floor.
Stretched out, while those around me
Cheer. Or cry. Or scream.
And raise their fists aloft.
...

o why o why o why,
i really want to die,
im gonna try to fly
to fly into the sky
...

Cold sky,
Scudded clouds
Constant grind
Of broken crowds
...

Curled up, foetal.
Every muscle in my body tensed against the earth.
Fingers clenched.
Eyes clamped shut.
...

Wake down
Icy cold and unlit
World spins
In blank greys and golds
...

Sits
Grasping his clammy knees
Eyes clenched shut-sewn lashes
Head locked between both legs
...