at deep blue midnight
or when its time to stretch out in the dark
and
the day is done again it is not over
yesterdays stack up like magazine back issues
selectively dog eared but unfinished
like
piles
of amazing encyclopaedias of facts
hard spines crushed and faded illegible
don't matter where you leave them no council will take them away
like
a to z's of dense cities glimpsed blurred over a drunk weekend
and
journals of global idiocy recorded by sacked eyes
yesterdays are the frozen leftovers in tight tubs
conscience
forbids binning
at grey yellow dawn
or when the alarm yells bells all the yesterdays flood in
and
they're lugged and dragged and touched and chewed all the day
in
bags
heavy
misunderstood and waiting
for
unachievable and complete sense
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