These words are hard to find sometimes
Hard to make them mine sometimes
They get stuck in my throat
My body panics, up it chokes
Hopefully this vodka will water my pipes
Leave them squeaky clean
Leave them revved up ready to roar
Out this juicy brain I’ve got in store.
But it’s been on the cool, time to microwave it,
Zap it on full power, no reason to save it
My brain’s been wrapped in cling film kept in the fridge,
I’m sure I’ve now got a more developed brow ridge
Neanderthalic, my skull metallic, my thoughts are phallic
And I don’t know where my tribe is at,
Alone in a world of 7 billion, by myself I’m sat
All buzzing like flies around me
As our collectivity breaks down and sucks up the juice of this diversity
I’m looking to break out of this smog
Into the warmth of a dumpling hug
I don’t know whether to stand tall
Or fall into your arms and just let you hold me
Like pancake batter, use a light touch when you fold me.
It’s an umami life, not recognised but present
Unknown to science but an old friend to the peasant
Flavouring this existence with a savour
Bridging the gap between respect and misbehaviour
What in the world is this world coming to
She’ll be coming round the mountain to comfort you
And in the end perhaps that’s all that we can do.
Anonymous Submission, 2020
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License