Cracked house martin.

Cracked house martin.

There is nothing here

A glass dragon

Coiled around a globe

A world in the grip

Of a fiction

Atop

A chipped coffee table

Which looked good brand new

Stood up to the task

For a week or two

Until the veneer

Revealed the composite

The shoddy workmanship

Split seams

Coffee stains

Like Olympic Rings

Without the national pride

Bevelled edges

Worn down from

The scrape of Doc Martins

The candles

Melted in the sun

Heavens above

All fallen apart

A little less

Than you want

A little more than you should.

Slowly

Everything returns

To the earth

There is nothing here

But a failure to thrive

No levity

Is needed.

Sated bodies

Lying together

On a torn sofa

Minds in disarray

Like their clothes.

There is a lack of concern

All is lost

To apathy

The thought of a good home

A myth

A centrefold.

There is nothing here

To speak of

The dream is over

There are no nightmares

Either

Just an illusion

Of normality.