Difficult
doesn’t even go anywhere near
where we find ourselves
tonight
gasping for breath
nothing clear
except which one of us
orders the next
beer

Half asleep
some sitting down
some on their feet
but
still half asleep
and what a state
in between
getting to work
and being late
what
a sorry state.

We're all being dragged down
into the innards of London Town
where we'll be chewed up and spat out
(grist to the mill, if you will)

The underground is only the prelude
the main attraction starts at eight,
I've arrived at my destination
sadly
I cannot wait
another sorry state.

A lump she is
A useless chunk
Of human protoplasm
A mind that can’t untie the knots,
Now neatly wrapped in silver duct tape
On a shelf just out of reach of devastated fingers.
Claw marks mar the surface of the tape
Evidence of effort spent in vain
To free the intellect
Now unplugged
And useless
As a rock.
ljm