s.a.d

at least I can wear all the Scarves,
Autumn Darkness

at least I can’t be arsed,
Arsenal of Farts I give

at least I don’t give a shit,
Tray of Sickness fitting in to last

Pearls in the oven,
I hope they are not glass

Tinkering the slides of thought
and flinging sugar-coated bombs around

Salted caramel
is stickier when warmed up
So they slow down, pressing the nerve
- gouge a riverbed for glowing beads
that lost their way

Nourished with raisins and sultanas
Growing, busting freely outside their
Pre-existing paths,
Infiltrating the whole bowl
Concealed by “What a pretty shawl”