fridge ballad

 every poet should be a martyr

and stars have shed the gutter

the life had fled the curtain rail

and bones were broken left to shudder

just in the hail

my bitter half,my sequacious hell

cloak of midnight and stubborn

jail

alone to dwell

alone to be

descrete

decrepit

in misery

the screeching yell

of crows of chaos

that sequester

bacteria

now grown stale