Hallowed is the Harlequin,

Half hearted hunger and malaise,
Choked by a smog.
These days when I can feel my teeth chipping,
And that old thought resurfacing;
Like a mouthful of blood,
You have to swallow it down and keep biting.
All sunshine shaded, 
Shakes and shivers on an empty stomach,
Febrile and relishing in
Mustn’t bes and better nots,
And bitter thoughts and barely theres;
Buzzing bees and unaware.