unembracing

All the way to the stars to become good ants.
Candidly we lie, we lie, we lie, we dance.
For twenty quids on the hollow road
Bought a man’s shouted freezing sensation,
To feel in my crying shower’t I hold
All the crimson rust in the world

The abandoned bottled plumage sing and crush,
Against the flimsy glass of murmured flaxen
Vehicles of self hatred, all the human sacrifices to inaction
Haunting spaces in the inner woods of thoughts
Words of hazel, rowan, oaks and seashells:
Our exile a verdict from the homely ground herself.