When I’m In A Coma

when my eyes have scabbed over
from staring too long at the lighthouse
and all you see is my shoddy body

when I’ve danced crypt-ahoy
down the spiral staircase
a gutful of dying gasps
to break my fall

will you be there?

when my Face is a database of dung
pressed in a Book by eComings
shutting my iGoings for good

when I shit drugs in the hospital bed
like an ad hoc choc ad
too upset to set up
downtown

will you be there?

when my arse is auctioned off
for bumming by the Moth Man
all night in the light

when I cry behind the fabric
over departed particles
“so make a mosaic”
my only thought

will you be there?

it’s how I make a living, man
it’s how I make a living man

will you still love me
will you still need me
when I’m in a coma?

by Stephen Moles