This morning I was early, I should have slept in longer – blurry bleary tired and trampled. Bed is so good, rest is mandatory, I will lay here until the last possible moment. I am dying. Empty empty dying. My body is a renegade, my body is a castle. First mornings light, I shy away, until I can’t, avoid the day.
This is the end.
This is the end of us.
It happened rather suddenly –
A chat without much fuss.
I’m at a loss,
And full of pain.
A heart of pressure
Aboard a plane.
I drink my tea,
My seatbelt locked
How could this be,
Turbulence and shock
We barely fought –
We just gave up.
Our restless sort –
And empty cup.
These silent days
And nights alone
A sadness plays
Plays with his phone.
Split now in halves.
And sorry for what became –
Our loveless paths,
Will never be the same.
The lowest point, in Hobart.
Sport and games are just an advanced form of socialising
By raise of hands, who DOES NOT want to put their hand up.
Ok, so we’re all compliant. Or confused. Perhaps both.
DAWN OVER THE SEA
In the light and in the noise
The little village wakes up:
Children and women, on the beach,
Wait for the night fishermen.
The sea looks like a ribbon of moire.
The sails of the trembling boats
Are like light white dots
On the blue and black depth.
Great birds pass through the air,
Wings open, and the sails
Among the last stars
Shine in the azure of the clear sky.
There is a phenomenon called Covidbrain –
that makes the world a prickly pain.
It makes you cry and act insane –
sick to stomach, heart and brain.
Inward hurt, worry and shame –
cannot be cured with anger or blame.
Carry on my love, our world’s the same –
please stay on track and keep in the frame.
Ben Dayho was a small and unlikeable man. He stood just over five foot tall, with a weather beaten face and whiskers. All the ladies in town were familiar with his sidelong glances and found him entirely repulsive.
That carrot tasted like nothing. Bad nothing. It was the flavour equivalent of dial up broadband.
Today I have a stomach ache, perhaps I ate too much fruit.
I’ll eat this banana and measure if it gets worse or better.
I’ll also drink this green tea, to see if it gets worse or better.
I cleaned my desk today and moved my plant.
I don’t think it’s an improvement, but I will leave it there as a change, something different that I control which makes very little difference, except that it’s not better, it’s about the same, if a little worse.
That was a good banana. I hope it settles my tummy and makes me feel better.
This green tea is brilliant, who knew a bag of green tea could taste so good.
I should get back to work.