I hold your eyes through glass,
conversation stripped
of sibilants and plosives
reduced to a vowel roll
like Charlie Brown’s ma’am

I wrestle with the thought
that this might be our last contact
without contact
although as adults we were hardly
what you’d call tactile
I’d take the chance to hug
and see your smile up close
right now

Settle we must for charades
and snatches of life
as I leave you
in the care of
wonderful strangers

In times of crisis
We’re all a bit lifeless
this Corona virus
Spreading minus bias

Isolated from all
government protocol  
So I sit, and I scrawl
head to wall, long haul

I get it... I do.
I fear my mind will stew
Clinging to screws
“Don’t come loose”

But to be sincere
Only one thing is clear  
Can’t wait to see’r
I need her near

Waves of sadness
Two metre madness
A Surprising vastness
Our towns a blank canvas

In times of of crisis
We rely on kindness
And I’m indecisive
But right now priceless

Our mobile devices  
...****

It’s okay to be afraid
To grieve the plans that you had made.
It’s just fine to get frustrated, cooped up, fed-up, irritated.
It’s quite valid to feel sad
When all around you seems so mad.
It’s alright to share your fears, your doubts, your disappointments, tears.
I know a virtual hug does nought
To comfort you when overwrought.
The platitudes seem never-ending;
Don’t begin to start the mending.
Only time will see us heal
And our futures will reveal
How we began to value life; when this pandemic brought us strife.

I am sure the world has gone mad.
And maybe I have too.
For these four walls can’t talk yet.
But I’m sure they will soon.

And

I am trying to keep myself busy.  
I am trying to hold onto the world.
For these four walls can’t hear me.
But oh, I wish they could.

However

My melancholy may be loud.
Because I keep my hopes silent.
For these four walls aren’t to blame.
But they aren’t offering hope.

So

I sit here all day and all night.
And pray for those worse.
For these four walls can’t feel.
But they keep me safe regardless.

Now

These four walls can’t hurt me,
But what’s outside them can.

An April fool
run to ground by a bug,
limited to roam a little upstairs,
a little down

I have consumed my body weight
in ones and zeroes,
which is no mean feat

I’ve streamed series,
beaten end of level bosses,
gone back and got mired
in the reeds
of the long reads

This feast,
long anticipated,
has not tasted as planned
and my multimedia catch up
leaves me wanting

When the time comes
I will cut and run
and plash my legs
in the sea to my knees

and I will not capture the moment
with an eye and thought
other than my own

When the distance matters
The air might be the enemy
The neighbour a threat

My heart beats
imprisoned
between the four walls

I reached for
the verses of you
my only Company

If I were on it, I'd align and live
a day worth the dent,

But if it's obvious or not I sense
created consent.

I try to fabricate a way in which
to break from the grip,

But it's appalling how inactive wings
will stay in the crib.

I see a season peeking in and out of clouds,
twiddle thumbs at my reflection
waiting numb at the direction of the wind

Brittle lungs hope to wrestle the distention
My complexion shows the symptoms
My assumptions were it's manifesting sin

It's the stagnant pool of water
It's a faltering foundation
guiding hands to feed the slaughter
Drawing lines to frame them in.

I make my mirror into butcher,
draw conclusions from the surface,
tunnel deep into the portrait,
judge the avatar as worthless.

We're just lonely little boxes,
on the surface,
if we only see the surface,
but the ocean drowns the treasure
for the divers to uncover

Will the tyrant butcher keep us boxed in cages
dancing superficial cadence
here to languish
never speaking to each other

Or can we assume the seasons feed the roots,
beneath the surface,
seed resurgence of connection,
see a new escape begin.