  I ALWAYS sing into the night To strangle innermost affright When faces, twisted masks of lust, Leer through the murk like yellow dust. And varnished voices frailly flit Down shuddering alleys sparsely lit. Old harlots lurch with ghostly feet That agonisingly entreat. I think I’m hearing ever after The echoes of polluted laughter, And I can never be alone But I must hear a hollow groan. My mind, as in a nightmare, sees Young bodies rotting with disease, Strange scabs of mauve and wizened heads, Sad hospitals with rows of beds.... Is there no harbour, no escape, Away from whoring, blood and rape? Two lovers on a bench: and I Can hear a new-born baby’s cry. |
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