nailed down
we howl as we re-form ourselves
to circumstances
beyond control
(the ordinary difficulties of life)
every breath a thunderhead
and the gnawing frost claws
gouging our churned guts
just numbingly agonising enough
(little troubles medicalised)
and so what, to them, if the little pills
are all that keep us from the darkness
so what if they let us distend and tear
until we're close enough to pass
