Clock Press On Overdose

The badgers run
under the feet of thunder,
they scatter once light falls
onto artery gashes.
Gold chokeholds and blunt teeth
turn ketamine from the trough
into baby meat;
cider lights deep roots.
Blind from clingfilm
and studded skin,
a dragon hunts the pits
for blazes.
Rotor blades turn to straw
as candy anthems fight for space.
There be tigers
always,
in blunt forests;
grey cartoons alive
on skin,
we bloodied always sink the ill...

@Steven Francis poems 2009