Pain turns everything white

Something hysterical
or maybe
it’s
classical
music.

I’m in the
shower room
plotting an overthrow
this body
just has to
go
soon.

It all turns to dust,
the days are getting shorter
the night’s are much tighter
I long for the lighter
mornings
to come.

Something hysterical or
me
waxing lyrical while
the sun burns a hole
in my headstone.

© 2015, John Smallshaw.