choking on smoke and airborn grease
carbon monoxide clinging to my cluttered oesophagus
spine of rope
ribs like a spring
i am an accordion
a book of wafers
wood and diseased glue
dead fabric unweaving
flakes of unplanned origami
the slow scrunch
the yellow sheets
wrinkle
a brief moment of pleasure as i open a tin of beer
anticipating the characteristic metalic squelch
the reassuring inevitability of seals being broken
if you look hard you can watch the pulse
dissapear
minor chords on wire fibres
i conduct my orchestra of coat hangers
the loose grip rippling strings
the croak made by rubbing against ribbed metal
shells from beaches as fingertips
getting smaller
sandpaper smooth
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