Non fiction

Lie strength tablets and
other evidence of
well presented surprise.

Sighting paw,
sheep, cattle, wild cat.
You.  I plotted the incident area of Sheffield for
the point to last weekend.

And not Sheffield,
Rotherham not Sheffield,
of feral cats in
eared
sight.  Of “big cats”
roughly down the
years.

To where I
find the
fruitful wisdom,
the dent for
the story I tell.
And
late, the afternoon
idea of patient
balance. 

If I, old
ever emit
this usual era
rap.
I do not like to
live. 

Prefer to travel
pharmacies in small
gushing happiness.
Unendingly
surging words
into the
head.

Close your eyes,
rippling unnervingly,
achingly together with
you.
Waves of detritus
dragging back
hallucinatory streetlight
whisper shells.

Shut my eyes and the
restless  patterns
screen my eyelids.
Echoes of images

on the edge
before collapsing in on
a second.

Rumble and judder as
mind twists itself,
baring puckered, creased
woodchip in the ceiling.
Codeine starts to wear.

Home,
to the arterial road and roundabout,
turning
to
the quintessential
abuse,
alcohol.

Our resulting
recovery rooted in
ups.  Their
overtones of
well, the slump
gentle.
Washed down with tea.
An effect comes on,
enjoyed for its
familiarity.

The
pharmacists and
their assistants have
brought
politeness, their apparent
keenness useful
to my physiognomy.  An
appreciative ruse
once.

Being spoke to
is a slightly
re-assuring experience,
completely misled
competence.  It adds so much
satisfaction,
replenishes a
genuinely nice persona.

It is this quality of nice
concern for their customer
that misleads
me.

And each time I
counter a multi layered
foundation.