Western Monday

Darkness deepens, in sleep,
Dream cycles complete on waking,
The street past the curtain
Manic and incongruent, figures hurrying,
Caught in the human law,
Worked from head to toe,
As the wind blows, as the rain soaks
Tired torsos, over-complicated minds.

Two figures fuck in harmony,
Synchronic meshing of flesh
Pleasuring nerves unnerved
Beyond the bed frame, passionate fervour
Deadened in the Monday rain,
In the working weeks beginning
These two, jobless are free
To pleasure denied the working.

But physical harmony sets in behind the curtain,
And the lifeless pleasurelessness leaks
Its sour nectar and the week creaks
Forwards while the couple taste the bile
Of loveless post-coital cigarettes, and tested
Like this, their beliefs and hopes
Are likewise pressured. The street
Beckons, the western wind whispers.