Canary wharf — putney triathlon Sodden to his water proof gilet The calorie counting man Paddles through to waterloo With a handful of left over charity cake He joins the rising peloton, Passing the stuck gear gang, Lights on yellow for the final sprint, Bouncing through Waterloo, Jubilee to platform twenty two, A final sprint to the end of the line.

Have I finished twisting, contorting into hideous shapes, as barbed wire pulled tight to a fence, my mind spent finding the sum of x, by using a pirates map. A half-life wasted in lead, bereft of the feelings I had, Is this all I am left with? Holes of pity for none but myself, it yokes and pulls, whips around my neck, snapping to the flesh. A load now must be beared payment for things unsaid, unheard and uncared.

the urge to stop shrinks slipping in the sink water coloured dreams washed out speak to me heavy mind dragging ticking clock dropping it’s needles now not the face I used to love moments before but contorted and snarled gnarled bark and sharp speak to me broken down lobes globes of knowledge now retired shipped out with yesterdays garbage why didn’t you speak to me

Routine. Leaning longingly waiting, Coffee brewing before your lips, A need, A pick me up, I watch with aventine eyes, As you embrace it, Sipping silently leaving.

Folded and licked Left hanging by floss of a lion bare and stripped to a thread loose enough to fall but unable to drop why aim for the top when the bottom is right here the coin has two sides I’m closer than I think but further than I was.

Why do we have little to say , when we have found our port, not drifting around our blue marble, slipping off and plummeting, landing in a despairing creativity, is it better to be Tom Hanks or Wilson, not drowning and alive, never able to live, living would mean safety, and a loss of who I am,

The off-white dust falls on the kitchen counter, mixing with yesterday’s pancake flour, trying to save money while spending weight, a new currency for my current hour, but the website said I had to try, get fit now and be a new guy. Is this what the future tastes like, a banana flavoured slime, no chewing of the gristle, onwards to a infantile time, milky meals of coloured powder, need to wash down my new chowder.

With people that see a me I am not, dancing under pixels in silence, laughing, partying and connecting, is this the future or the past, it doesn’t feel like either, but it moves to slow, and the people to fast, for me to find myself in the present. I’m told to dance by those I can’t hear, my body stays still, my mind bounces to a new world, wait I have been here before, cool breeze, messy bedsheets, focus, take me back, pulled under the surface, my body pulses to the sound of

It sticks to me like pavement gum, blotching my duck egg shell, It is the lost frozen peas, left over from a family feast, Lonely no more but still blue