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Chris Page - 05 Jun 2026
Crass Health Surface
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 Impatient winds up in her cloth The tired shoes are splitting up With weighty promises of love Waiting for the last to fall away Buckle noose around the strap All that separates the flesh From green grass or sinking mud Stagnating, knowing the delusion Clean sheets waiting for a body Slapped into life and slowly gutted A place of sickness is to die in Tired of the cruelty and lying Drip-fed tears of the forsaken They say "we'll soon have you up and walking" Took the prison for a stronghold Took the lies for a love-song Paid for life on a shoestring Waiting for the last to fall away Buckle noose around the strap All that separates the flesh