Ears quivering
as he hears the rattling porcelain
- that's the easy life
as he looks towards the door,
the tin can,
the steel fork
the comfortable chair
and the empty patio
once full of itself
with a family of four
now feels neglect

cups of tea stain the desk
and breakfast's on the table;
on my own two feet
while he sits in the chair

the shadows whisper,
he is the devil in my bedroom
where people never find the light
it's all outside
and always distant
where we cannot reach, our arms bound

the unbreakable rope
that is stability;
the tin can,
the steel fork
the comfortable chair
and the empty patio
where we fell down
on our own.