Massage

I smoke with Elvis Costello
lingering in my ears
and I hide inside my duvet
from the demons
that like to stay with me
and nestle into my bosom.
Tomorrow I'll be free, surely.

Pall Mall calls on the telephone,
"Escape to London,
where you'll be free
among the vintage 
and the beautiful people."
It is made yet more beautiful with you near, 
I love you.

Ecstasy is something to quiver over, beside the pigeons
and the weddings and the golf balls.
I wish you were home, 
angel of Mercy. I said too much in those half-cut nights
and now am looking for sober confirmation
between my floral dress and sunglasses
that I will not be left alone for the half-cut mistakes.

Falling apart with fear, I fear, I'll push you.
The hardness within me is unprepared and unaware
of such perfection
like cotton wool holding my self-destruction. When I'm sitting alone
- I know I can cope
I merely don't wish to 
without you.