There was that November

When nothing was hard

You lay on the concrete

No you sat on the car

And ash fell from the sky

And sat in your hair

Your veins were inked

Into your skin

And your bones were sharp and delicate

And the sheets stayed on the floor

And the radio never turned off

You lay on the bed

No you sat on the bed

No you sat on the ground

And it was fine and it was cold

You took a knife

And you cut your hair short

And it bounced on your shoulders

Whenever you moved


Then the next November

You sat at the end

Of your bed with your legs crossed

And your hair was longer

But it never bounced

And your sheets stayed on the floor

And the radio never turned off

And your head was full

Of voices you didn't recognise

And you would jump when you heard

The kids next door laughing

Your veins were inked

into your skin

You took a knife

And you cut into your wrist

And your heart didn't beat any faster

Like it used to

And you went to sleep only to feel

Those few seconds

Where you forget what is wrong

When you wake