Silver and immaterial.
2 dimensional,
like the flickering of a computer screen
is my mind.
Ones and noughts.
Noughts and ones.
French women croon
and German couples dance
in their bunkers
and i am far away from where I
should be.
But try as I might, I can’t scream it all away.
Black swans float by
flush with a wall of nothing,
scratching their nails.
Scritch-scratch.
Like nails on me.
Nails on amour.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 