Umbrellas and crows fill the grey. Pock marked procession [bad word] the sleet as the howl of a lonely bell misbehaves In the [bad word] silence. Polished black shoes singing on gravel. Albino leaves sweep [bad word] the air falling in half time so as not to [bad word] the silent shuffle. Black coats and bandages fall out of an eviscerated sky. Processions of [bad word] for the turning of the tide. To sail in their coffin ships where all good things must die.Underneath a bitter sun hanging in a wounded sky.