Big, thick mist carouses car hum and buzz.
Warmer globe, scoop the parrot, wetlands lie low,
Exposed, vulnerable, prone.
Low emerald hopes incline,
in the windless mill pond offing gannets
fight for alfalfa seven times diurnally.
The French fleet lurk behind the seaweed bar
Waiting for the cows to come home to roost.
Company and drink
enter the room
warm menace, sardonic, knowing, sage
Scarlatti.
When this episode, this little jolly, is over, is it
another Tempest.
An
attractive, familiar, alternative,
sickening, horrific, act of self-harm,
abuse, and neglect?
Why this lack of worth, of purpose, of me?
But,
if this is me how can the alternative
attractive familiar be denied?
Take a good look at the situation.
How does one change it, confront, combat it?
Have a nice day!
Sinball!
Without a hangover as well.
Forget the bottle,
you got the bottle.
Repression.
Gonna play this game of life to win:
shower at eight, sort papers, get creamed up
and dressed
and go,go,go…
Cannot get away
from this feeling
that I am
under constant,
insidious
surveillance.
After all,
They never stop going on about it:
The Mediums
It is difficult
not to take it
personally.
Spookies .
‘Perhaps someone is surveilling this?
comes a Little
Voice
Don’t be silly!
Whobody
in their right mind
would do that?