After the party the carpet was strewn
with the corpses of bright balloons.
Like the aftermath of some aztec warfare,
all shrunken in death they bleed our breath.
And stood at the edge of the kitchen sink
you were a lost explorer on the brink
of a foaming abyss
filled with cigarette ends and soapy dishes.
And speaking softly in my ear
you told how its so often you dream of planes that will carry you from here
here where the bottles just breed with bottles
'til our words go soft in each others ears.
You'd go someplace where the sea is a creased and greening hymn
sung by an easy wind.
You'd find God in a sharks egg
spiral castles in the sky
each cloud a pearly machine glowing egg-shell white.
And at last belonging to no-one
you'd be at last alive.
After five years in a skin that you no longer recognise.
It's just that everyone asks for so much.
And can't they see that you're tired.
But they just want to be close to you
and so do I.
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