Sunken, hard-fast heartbeats are pinned to the wall
for future reference (just in case)
Like a plastic top or stopper
found in a kitchen drawer
with no apparent use.
Yet, when thrown away
(in times of frustrating clutter)
it becomes the most essential
piece of plastic; life itself
cannot go on without it.
So I'm here, like Queen MAB
giving peace to gestating sleepers
who dream, if only for the fear of plagues
and leave blank canvases at the bed end
instead of knee-length socks.
I drag my loose skin behind me
(consequential of the fall out)
like a pair of old mans braces
back and down - sucked
intoabyss-malcogitation
Worshipping false gods
and feeding on fanciful prophets
brings a realisation of insignificance
that squashes all hope of rebirth
and enlightenment
My failure to arrive at anything
less (or more) than "beautiful"
is my own; because
I haven't thought of it in so long
Just survival in the rear view mirror
~ SRWB 2010
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