again

i wake as an effigy,

an offering to the world

hoisted up, clothed, and set ablaze

representing nothing.

again

i am led towards the mundane,

the chains of duty dragging my heavy legs,

into a vomit yellow office sterilised by fake light

to earn money for someone somewhere else.

again

i traipse back to the flat,

the silence of evening broken by screeching

from dirt-mottled strays contesting strangers' scraps

strewn from tipped bins like a plastic Pollock.

again

i dream of haunting figures

that jut at grotesque angles

clawing at me in desperation then

disintegrating back into reality.

again

i wake.