Is it bins day yet

Hallo again today.
Alone Again Or
I started there, stayed here;
I left them all behind.  Except
the drumbeat of incessant thoughts
against my windowpane…

Is it time for coffee yet? 
Hot frothed stimulus, swallowed whole;
…it is the drug and I need to score…
The grown-up stimulus shield is useless
against an other rusty tang, like radiation –
relentless, hanging springing in the air –

under which life must mutate;
Life will distort, life eats itself,
more life becomes a static inflammation…
Which should best be thrown away: 
that accustomed outer shield, or life?
That is the question.  Today.

Is it bins day yet?

Because lubricants congeal:
fit to salve or to inflame?
We are glued, at random intervals
in an unaccustomed patience,
waiting muffled for some sharps to let us go
Dancing across the water / with galleons and guns

Waiting…
~ while strength leaches from our conflicted fabric
~ hope seeps into the saturated ground
~ moss thickens, rust gathers, in damp corners,
crystallising like despair in old arthritic joints;
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is…

Is it bins day yet?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s