by Patricia Walsh
Crying over a non-starter of a boy.
Sharing drivel with the unresponsive.
Expecting respect of an obvious failure
circulating around type to increase standing
too much to write, perfect misunderstanding
everything is find for the infinite clouding.
Knowing when to wind up, over breakfast
option paralysis is too much for anyone,
reflecting on a good coffee, select endeavour
photographed misgivings given a welcome home
under cover of candles stupefied on the table
notoriety guaranteeing the best seats.
Not having to slip through holes in the darkness
a certain winter creeps through the window
bloodied once a month, needing more of the same
skeletal books waiting for the moment to spend.
Clogging the park over vehicles abiding
bad reviews take shape, a poverty perpetual.
Reaching for the wall socket, kicking out in time,
the constant beverage sleeping on the job
too good to wash bone, hitting a particular wall
rising on inquisition a similar diary
promoted with a conscience to something good
asking for promotion now a common goal