Grimbeau

Crashed out from seven to eleven
& so on & so forth all the long night long
Necessarily punctuated by bouts of micturition, coffee
& tap water, insucks on a menthol vape, alpha
Meandering through the channel & guides in search of
Something beyond my control·I am not
Who I was & am what I am·
Winzerschlafenziet or so they call it
In wobbly obscurantist circles:
Crimson sheets barely tell
The tip of the icebreaker
Crashing through pack ice
& all night teleshopping
Even when soaked overnight
In saline and lavender
~
Quite why I am here
For some reason escapes me
(common in a chick of my age
That’s what oft I hear)
Or so the experts, goldfish
And fellow imbeciles explain
I think there is another reason:
Terminal boredom
Which (I am unreliably informed)
Comes from deep down within one
A remark that never fails to
Incite me to outrageous
acts of crochet & fretwork
which I later would mortally regret
If I could only remember what they
Were & consider them worth
Categorising as such—
this also bores me and drives me to fits
of desperation that distract me & that’s
why accidents like people occur…

11.18
No dump!
Where’s my strutting arrogant piranha gone?
Stone crazy bower birds pinch my trinkets.
Harpies pester & rag my innards.
Make a stand for decency!
Go to ‘Sea’ again before the New Tear
Guess I’ll go below
& take a blow
Fake a bow to indifference
Milk the plaudits for what they’re worth
Fifty short of six thousand likes for the year
& not a bean to show for it
But the inner glow…