These Drinkers - Kitchens Of Distinction

Switch off the noises with the drunks

Pull around the fire until there’s burnt hands

And the moon is the fattest and the fullest

And it’s a god with ideas of mirth

Oh switch off the sun with these painful eyes

The sight of anything is too much to do

Turn to the wall to wet your feet

Blinded deaf and happy at least

Turn off the noises of incessant voices

That tell this and lie about whatever

The only weapon is a beautiful fresh bottle

With memory collapsing under its tidal waves

The stars are vibrating signs

Advertising names and faces and places of monsters

Unplugging the lot because there’s not enough dark

In which to hide not even to sleep

Not even to sleep with these drinkers

The bright pain of nightmare

And the loss of all reason

Brings no such releases

Nowhere to climb anymore