Plunder

I return to the place

every now and then

always petrified, bones ache

and grind, telling me to run

and on approach the smell

of damp concrete begins

to penetrate my senses

as I enter tragedy's domain

like crossing the threshold of fever dream

to nightmare,

where ghosts toy

with the dying carcass

of a life once lived.

*

I move further into its depth

and the nauseating muscle pump

of my heart

buries my ears and drains

the colour from my face.

That clammy cold

sits on my cheeks and back of my neck.

I arrive finally

at my altar and the air hisses

from me like a slashed tire.

At either end

of graffiti stained walls

cars and people and life

pass by... and nobody can see me,

hear me, save me.

Just as it was.

Just as it always will be.

*

Because I am part of this place now,

this wicked place..

Just as the puddles are.

Just as the cracks and crevices.

Just as the sour trash and rust.

Just as the leaking pipes,

the steaming grates

the watching walls

and sliver of merciless sky.

Just as he is.

Just as it was.

Just as it always will be.