Section Two: twenty-eight days

God puts his head to my window.
I see the trigonometry of life.
The songs of innocence seduce me.
I walk into a night
where trees in darkness
are Norsemen wielding battleaxes.

The morning of captivity
I suck three cocks for cigarettes.
The nurses give me Lithium and Seroquel.
I want to die again.

The first time
I took the Northern Line to Camden.
Stood silent on the platform
waiting for the next train.

When it came
I slid over the edge.
The brakes squealed.
The train embraced.
Took me along the track.
There was no giant spark.
No thunder-crack.
Just the tick of cooling metal.

There’s a garden here
where we sit in sunlight.

Twenty-eight days.
Waiting for heaven.