The Well

Daddy is f ucking mummy
And mummy is f ucking daddy
And everything is ok,
The cycle is in the hall
And the shoes are on the mat
And the fire is in the fireplace.
The beer is in his glass
The question is still in her eyes
And the lies are on her lips
Where his finger is
Gesturing gently
But with authority
Ssssshhhhhhh.
The key is in the door
He thinks the door wants more
She wants to f ucking scream
But the scream wont leave her lips
Its forbidden by his diesel oil
Finger tips
Daddy is fingering mummy
All is well.
If their fingers wander
There'll be trouble I can tell.
I'm on advent door number seven
There's an an angel
Who's fallen
To here from heaven.
Daddy sent mummy a dirty text
From work
After he ate his cheese sandwich
She made with love.
All is well.
My cycle has a squeak I cannot stop
It's quiet in the hall
Where it doesn't move
It just has the potential.
The fire is in the fire place
My bedroom is empty
Except for robotic toys
And decongestants
And peeled away
Fungi toe nails
And unclaimed milk teeth
And letters to Santa
All screwed up in a ball
And felt tipped f ucking sketches
Unappraised.
Potatoes are boiling upon the hob
Dancing fantastic
Scummimg the water.
The water had been shat in
When they took it from the well.

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The Well