Galactica Pathetica

I tremble
down to my last cigarette,
my fingernails
grey at last.
Frail as ash
hurt as a bee sting,
I look for girls
on a radio phone in.

Squeeze me
until someone else knocks the door,
I need all the sex
in the world.
Bitter like lemons
angry as anvils,
cut off these limbs
cool me down.

A celebrity pose
od's on the wall,
put on a face
why don't you?
Be Lara Croft
from the tv screen,
I watch (you)
but i'm unseen.

Purify me
for one minute only,
fan the flame
I become tonight.
Lightning stalker
happy as caffiene,
death on heat
bloody gasoline...

@Steven Francis Poems 1996