i crawled back home with a
basket on my back and my
skin tinged with tannin and
the front light was still on and
the letter box was still empty and
the toenails were still the keyhole.
my bed still smelt like pee
and old orgasms. my stomach
no longer filled with semen and
dried apricots i emptied it
anyway down the toilet bowl
down the drain
down into water cold darkness where
monsters and paedophiles live,
sharpening their fingernails against the
cracks in the pipes
