Crass

Places of sickness nurse me cold
Attendant whiteness glare in dark
Straighten out the winding sheet
Twisted round in poorest dreams
Shattered proofing of the lost
Splinter shackled, little wounds
Of cruelty and truth, they tie
The one way sickness up inside
Regressive smile, a babys laugh
A learnt contortion of the mouth
Places of laughter leave me cool
Hot fire dying down to ash
Beauty breezes through so swift
Endless roundabout of grief
Not much to ask, a rightful place
Where nothing matters, but can touch
Without a sinking heart, this sigh
Could be the wind among the leaves
This pain does not belong to me
They've taken everything away
To nurse the sicknesses of loss
Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt