Friday, 6 February 2015


The rib cage and the muscles which attempt
to hold the body upright, lack the strength.
The stomach bulges almost in contempt
at freedom unrestrained.  The whole length
of body's weak and slow and each breath short.
The eyes are heavy and ideas strange.
There is no sleep although it's craved and thought
is funny chains, non sequiturs which range
from ancient memory to present fears.
The chest expands but air serves little use.
The thought of work seems fabulous, ideas
concerning future days bizarre. Obtuse
and muddled, shuffling, stumbling and listless
the need for peace, unending, quite resistless.

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