And so it goes . . . .

I imagine your treacherous head asleep

Dreaming of feint ruled A4 and rubber bands

when I am up from my searching sleep

With the wolves and white foxes

Of the graveyard shift

By midday you have been reprieved from an untimely end

And by dusk you are a dull ache

And so it goes

Tomorrow I will wake

With a fire in my head

and you will be damned

and saved again

All in a day