Subsultus

I am drained, something sears through my chest. I cannot contend with this again.
Water gathers around my eyeballs and it must clear because I am a man, and people are looking at me.
I want to collapse and pass out, to erase everything, because walking through this town feels like a funeral procession.
There is an echo, you metamorphised. The view from our flat is irretrievable.
We exhumed our relationship and fought like stags, and I gave up, forcing my forehead against the wall to knock myself out.
I wake up like a murderer every day, I have repressed the memory of you, the concealed body. I am in denial, such have I hidden you, and then I wake and you return and my heart pounds. This is too much to carry, I will be caught.
The bloody tissue, my nervousness when I lie and touch my face.
France appears; books, illness, depression, the Tate, Andersen's grave appear.
There is always an indicator.

To sleep sweetheart, to rest.