BRACE YOURSELF

the sun rises
over its own long shadows

retracts them like claws

and 
keeps them for 7PM

too lazy for AM blackmail

~

and i am unhooked
from out my anxiety dream*

that i might enjoy another day
sat
in
the
easychair petroleum sunshine

pouring decaff
into the
gin hole

~

and stephen kings 
night mist of monsters

gave way 
to dagenhams day fog

all 
90s ghosts
and 
noughties walking dead

surprised to still be streetside
and
functional

~

the waking worries
arrive like milk used to

dirty with slugs
on the doorstep

and sanity calls
says

its just a tuesday
any old tuesday again

count your blessings
theyre in the cats eyes


~

so dance on
my gibbons

throw your shapes
in the missile test dawn

and if theres any kind 
of breakfast at all
then relax

youre still in the frying pan

~

maybe braise yourselves tho

baste your plastic kipple 
in extra-prime amazon juice

as preparation
as goodbye

for
the
overcrowding
and 
the 
torched scraps
on the blue flame free-for-all
of the stove top

from designmodo.com

*( a teeming public toilet
   rushed private mens functional stares

   and no cubicle doors close right
   and in mine there no toilet either

   so i was trying my best
   to shit out a built-up backlog 
   hovering my arse 
   over a tall chromium pedal bin

   ultimately unsuccessfully )