eager grotto
“How’s your uni going pal?”
“What?”
“How’s uni?”
“Its going good grandad!”
Frozen
still sat pouring tea,
the words can barely spill out
to reach him.
Such a sin, sat
under the cover,
with his lover in the room
over, slave to her own commitment,
happy, but tired.
Ready to begin anew.
Paralysis,
transferred,
from his spine,
to my spirit,
though
upon further
analysis, was differed,
just for the minute,
or a moment of
panic, and
static, of
the brain.
Its hard to force a smile
through,
their pain, which i feel no less tame.
Despite
her likeness to an umbrella
in the rain,
or a warm coat all the same,
or him,
mere watercolour to paint.
Yet to her, a saint.
Or she would hope anyway,
now that he seems lifeless, and faint.
The tea still streaming down,
he seems to turn around,
and ask…
“How’s your uni going pal?”
“Good grandad”
I’m not
interested in
elaborating to a
non receptive. Imagine
the collective of
times id relayed
mountains of
information
ineffective.
Yeah, irrespective,
its nice;
to converse with a
floundering
soul, floating
till the bell tolls,
reaching but never
grabbing onto such lifeboat.
Through
letters,
texts,
piles and
piles to take in,
next to his bed.
At least
he can say
they were read.
With the tea scolding,
soon overflowing;
he seems
anxious,
no longer knowing.
So he asks…
“Hows your uni going pal?”
“…yeah good”
“What you saying?”
“It’s been good”
Guilt.
Why is it i cant help feel,
that the
self built
moral wheel,
has steered me,
in directions all too
real? Or all too unwanted?
Soon to be a mind
haunted by an
inevitable
impasse
that I’ve
been oblivious
to, not yet taunted by.
Yet why?
Why me?
It’s not my choice,
I’m not poised to play with gods toys,
and whisper,
with deaths voice,
upon one of his vessels
not yet destroyed,
and on a loved one,
i no longer recognise
with a conflicted
rejoice.
“Hows uni going pal?” <continued in replies>
blissful mirage
obsidian kelp
steady lake
peak onyx
bright orchid
tawdry lance
tired bronze
velvet yew
cobalt lance
ionic flare
tulip sand
gentle light
left storm
pseudo hamlet
cloud lagoon