Outside of science and law
all rules are bent and broken.
Like the smell of a war,
the blood is a token
for everyone to take home
with a folded flag creased
the same way as their bones,
and they'll never cease
to see the crisp packet
gathered in the exact same way.
The world is split in two
like a magician's assistant,
and it will take more than glue
to ever unite the two.
Mother lies slumped over the closed toilet. Simon arrives.
She looks at him with half-opened bloodshot eyes. She smiles longingly at him as her heavy lids close.
MOTHER: I'm not drunk. Help me to bed babe.Simon takes her weight with his tiny frame and struggles to get her upright.
They hobble down the corridor. She falls into her bed, Simon places the steaming tea next to her bed.
He closes the door to her room and pauses outside for some time.
