When the Shadow chased a little Light

 
The broken veins allow me to crawl
upon your crumbling oak floor
and leave a trail of squatter's scum.
My nose is a gaping wound
and my arse burns after slashing with blades,
your name is now engraved there.
Shadow draw the curtains
and I will fall into bed,
a little Light hidden in your arms.
My head is pounding
as if I am not dead inside,
just falling
and falling
and sleeping.
As if I am tied to your starry eyes
by rose-tinted glasses.
Where is Papa's Light
and Mama's little faith?
The Lord cannot save it now,
only bring me home
on a bed of flowers,
from needles I inject
between toes
and
stare me down
with words
reminding us
of my Light.
An epilogue
of life,
most extraordinary,
where the darkest Shadow chased a little Light
and the foolish Light embraced it.