Fluorescence

I close the curtains
but even still
fluorescent light slips through the gaps

I attempt to envision a circle of black
but even still
fluorescent light slips through the cracks

Parted curtains, cracked wood
artificial fluorescence finds its way in.
Its prying eyes, its eager hands
ever watching the flock.

"Here" it beckons; "drink."
"We're serving the source of life
with a side of metal pump or plastic, whatever your preference"
I don't remember what it was
to taste the life in spring water.
Nor the feel of it between my fingers
not even the trickle of it down my chin.

Light footed in the snow,
bare hands a pale glow,
chest refreshed by winds flow
I've stepped off the street
towards the trees, and chirping choirs
I'd sing along, had I'd been taught a chirp.

Nothing is recognisable,
once your head is forced into a sink
chipped plates, loose cutlery
sinking into my skin
what I loved about blood and its dance in freshwater; concealed by the diluted dishwater
even as I bleed
even as I scream
I still don't feel alive.