Deadlines besiege me, as stress pennoned limbs
ache for action, yet, procrastination consumes me.
I know relief will come, when: task complete
I can truly unbend, sit back and relax.

Yet, brain benumbed, I irradiate in a background
of autogenous anxiety. I stare through the TV,
study the grain on the page I'm not reading,
attempt to study the air.

Until, deadlines eve, when stress breaks free
staining my mouth, and eyes and senses, bitter
body, shocked, resuscitated
and frantic activity commences.

my reeling mind feels like I am doing cartwheels
which dent and fry my perspective
spinning the world, making me heave,
the load I carry can make the road ahead look bleak,
shedding these thoughts, my mind feels spent, sold.

leaning close, your watery, bloodshot eye
attempts to focus, yet fails each time.
your breath belies a day spent working,
as your sterile, whisky soaked breath
chokes my senses.
each word, you force upon my ears,
expelling the horrors of death, your death,
how one day you will not be here,
how your own father, my unknown grandfather,
declined, passed away.
but rather than fatherly advice or comforting words,
you seem intent on drawing tears.
and when finally, the tears do fall,
your befuddled state confuses
their meaning and their source.

long the gears have slowed their turn,
blunt edge blurs each mindful stare,
watchful state does not discern,
accelerated, life, it burns.

lost the gaze, the dreamers yearn,
untethered feet do not return,
lucid gaze succumbs to rust,
hazed, the mirror, collects more dust.

too late we see what we have lost,
life a dream, life is lost,
as Earth meanders on her path,
her past forgotten, her past is passed.

onwards, the darkness calls,
observers perish, darkness falls,
time itself, deconstructs,
a universe falls to dust.

each history, book bound, staid,
its furthest reaches always fade,
what hope have we, in slow decay
to leave our mark, to save this day?

i search, i look
for sublime touch,
of meaning in
the dirt and dust.
a shred, a crack,
a false perception,
scrying clues of misdirection:
more to life,
greater meaning,
imagination quelling reason.
yet, as always, in conclusion,
symmetry
it slays delusion.

rainfall paints the car park with a darker hue, giving
depth to its once flat surface, so that headlights
drill down and refract, in its now mirrored facade.

the world slowly melts, as a thousand drummers beat
against my window, falling as a single sheet towards
the sill.

dark shapes, people, walk swiftly by: faceless,
beheaded by their own umbrellas, but, it is no different
from a sunny day, when stern faces, and frosty
indisposition, takes the place of covered face.

normalcy.
the minds attempt
to squeeze
uniform meaning
from the scolding chaos
which permeates
every square inch
of this perceived reality.
corn fed geese, fattened on memes,
fools world constructed, and
happily closing the door
on the prison, built
with our own numb hands.
puppets to nothing, and
to return to nothing
is all that ever is