Present Only

You said -

Jonesy this, and Jonesy that,

As if an identity could be warm and real.
The expectation fell over me,
A precipitation of bricks and soil.

Shadows, they looked like shadows of bats
Against the blind, afternoon pavement.

When I awoke and realised I was still alive,
A trillion beings respired,
And my respite was wired in.
I cut my pale limbs climbing over,
And when I reached sleep,
I found no lamb, no lion, not even water.

What I remember is a stubborn clock,
Foxes starving,
A past without oxygen or muscle.