Outside rooks retch in the morning

Unheard by me, bathing numb as

I blink and drink from a gasping

Bottle and mourn the labouring Sun.

My floundering eyes are as blank

As a beached whales bleaching in the

Abortive light that starts the fire

That saps the calm from his waning

               Ebbing life.

Before I had sat senseless, feeling

Only beads like eyes in the arabesque air

Content to sip

Sullenly in the tilting slosh of the bath until

The sad light seemed to push my swimming head

Up. So, drawing deep the last drops from the

Drying bottle

Gorged

        Hunched

Sun following I trailed into my bright bed.

RATE THIS BRANCH!