Argh-Jesus-Rolly

Its 11.32pm. I am in bed, awash with yellow lamplight,

Wind (enveloping this perching palace I call home)

Traffic: the indelible mark of their gemstone

‘Low spark of high heeled boys’

And, the assuaging ease of step one completed of my mission

(*more action on ANSFW facebook page).

Earlier this evening I played hopscotch along the motorway

Strung to Hot Chip’s ‘Motion Sickness’

Which, if anything, joyfully quickened my step

To side step the sliding shells in the lamplight.

Oh what a burden would lie on my conscience

If the crashing crush nether my shoe

Bristled every neck hair in eulogy to that raised soul.

I had just dined. Nachos. And chocolate mousse.

With my three sisters who live in a doll’s house

With their three cats:

Married but Spinsters to be.

With the melancholy of late

I welcome this joy that has deluged my body this afternoon

Washing away doubt, self deprecation and self pity.

In the library this afternoon,

While the waterfront got wetter

I combated my fears on a few pieces of paper:

A moratorium on facebook

More sleep:

Nothing new really

But sometimes these things must be written down to be realised.

The theme of the day, I felt, so properly summarised in my friend’s text

(In light of knowing I was still coughing)

Argh-Jesus-Rolly.

My life encapsulated!

(Aside from my friend, Hot Chip writes theme songs for my life:

Look up 'Motion Sickness'. Now.)

x

*image courtesy: online