12.

Peacocks feathers point to brick and the thud that sounds through the shrill whistle of polluted, relaxed air- infiltrates a sun drenched corpse-like peace.

Only breathing separates life from eternity, so catch your oxygen lively and hold on to it for you will never see the thief coming.

As I pondered this kettle of boiling mist from evaporated thoughts of ground teeth, I realised that nothing forced could truly lay claim to being genuine- and so my pen picked me up to translate the indecipherable education my ignorance had saw fit to infect me with.

And black as the ink in my nights was, staining all clarity with defiance to move, I sampled the air and satisfied a crush my dreams had night after day.