The Ward - 1 West

My head is so full of nothing real - it hurts.
I open my eyes and see nothing real - to me.
I see the faces of no expression
          on a head that barely moves.
Another body quivers, convulses and then           
          a tear in its loneliness
          drops upon a week-old newspaper, 
          coffee stained,    
          tear stained.
My head needs to separate from my body
          - for a while.
Sometimes I close my eyes to help        
          - but, no, it hurts more.
Then blackness whirls around me.
Snowflakes of coal dust flurry
In sulphurous patterns - clogging -
Clogging the senses like
A talcum powder from Hades;
Obscuring the reality which
I desperately hope exists
Outside the abandoned coalfield
Hell of my mind.