Paintings now at
Awkward silence: the peace a violent under performing scream
Slicing cobwebs from the ceiling
Feelings crumble in just about time to make the clock
Busking bravely to earn a crust
If you must
Bust the bank with crowbars to get an ounce of sense
Not media just a fact for frustration
Break in glass slippers: Just bits left behind
Never mined the shattering; illusive, baking hot, tin roof reason.
Flat you lent is parting the cheeks
Flapping the wind swept alleyways of leaves.
In the eaves flicking seaweed at the passers by.
Clever tricks never opened the window to let in some air
As if we care
As if we fidget when poked with a sharp prick
A needle in the vein
A sharp instrument to flush the chained up latrine
Obscene and relentless
November 28th 2017
Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright