Body

i was not prepared

for what i perceived

to be a lack

of cold custard tarts

at the bakery

it may have been

due to the fact

that i was in the post office

at the time

it may have been

mock outrage

on my part

i tried not to start

then i tried not to stop

i hadn't taken into account

the smell of pancakes

pervasively wafting

from god knows where

it may have been

and under scored

fat oversight

a giggle a cough

a fart of fright

another bang

some where in the night

and away from

any form of

verification

validation

veneration

and especially

away

from the light

it may have been

nothing

but there was more to it than that

less than the sum of any working parts

more than a five year bachelor of arts

this not a free for all this is not a pass

just a bunch of random words blown right out my arse

unseen between a screen of obscene

and the promise of a vanishing point

it may have been

cheap vodka

good orange juice

there s no explaining some shit

no point what's the use

running on empty running on fumes

not able to name faintly heard tunes

and the ones that i can are just cringe

it may have been

any number of thing s

at any time

and if given the choice

its not even mine

i find as i decline

the things i don't mind

get lost between time

and then left behind

eyes in the air

eyes in the sky

a clipping of wings

no one can fly

acclimatisation projects:

you wanna bucket or a towel?

are you handy on a trowel

do you wanna buy a vowel?

half lit grinning like a twit

dressed as fool

with a mouth full of shit

it could be a joke

a droll mirthless replicated candour

no dusty grins

no ghostly grimace

fading in the sun

wading in as one

the end has always begun

not even a second hand titter

and yet i find i’m no closer

still no closer

to any baked custard treats

dammit!