No one accompanies the funk. No soul lingers for the blues. Tonight I drift alone, along the checkered keys. Unpick the signals that siren danger. Only to uncover disco lights. Erratic in nature:
last time I was home alone, I spread the Clarins lipstick I bought from the Boots on the high street, on my palms. the fluorescent lighting blinding, the gold casing enchanting. it had to be mine. now the rouge velvet stains my hands, and my wall incidentally cos I went on a bit of a mad one. pressed my palms deep into the clean white walls. then I sat on my floor, imagining a pool in which to drown in.
