Sun on Nightshift Cat hair in the wind. Apparently bad omen. But fuck that we make our own. Could paint the town red with all the brothers and sisters that have left. Lighting up our lives like the sun was on night shift. We will forever dance in the field of gold. A friend compliments. Uncomforted. Like an archaic Celtic King who has lost it all. I am who I am. But I am not who you think. Nights these eyes grow duller the more I see. Head to toe scarred from the inside in. Sometimes I feel faker than sins I am trying to atone. Feel like I could be doing more. Doing better. Some exhaling this unloyal disease. Can see through the shadowlands who they are. Cracked concrete with lilies that have broken through. Roots of Fenian pasts growing from my mouth. Bone now replaced as I grow a new skeleton. Can see me. Can see you. Every artery. Every belief. By Darragh McConn