Oh, the sound

and the sight of colours,
the taste of beer,
my brothers, they are all my one and only brother,
a picture or two of a lovely woman,
the sofa cushion resting askew against the wall,
and the bass notes reverbering across the room,
the bare feet of my sister,
and the thought of an uncoming tomorrow,
the shades,
the hues,
the meaning of the phrase London Calling across a tee,
surf and the longing for the sun,
a fast swipe on the dead,
a long, slow good-bye for the living,
the smell of tobacco and sex,
the dirty honey Caterpillars and the red plaid pyjamas,
a memento of Earl Gray and of not better but different times,
sarcasm and loud voices and whispers to myself and screams from the couch opposite,
and one and two and three blinks, I fall asleep.