On my way to work -
Quick look out of the car window:

A dense morning fog,

Lies over the cornfields.

There's no more corn of course.

It's all gone by now.

Feeding someone or something.

Like a sea of silence

that gently embraces the barren land

the white invites me with its calm.

What would I find if I could swim inside?

Would it just swallow me whole?

But I have little time, due to the daily grind.

So I go against my instincts

and just drive on.

Nothing of that happened though.

Does it really ever happen like that?

Truth is I lie half-awake in my bed

when I should've long been asleep

having visions about a person

who is long dead

or maybe never existed.

Wallowing in a cliché -

Peak worker of the twenty-first century:

Dreaming of freedom

when we are all so very free.

By the way -

Is eating soup each day a sad thing

or am I just a sad person?

I never liked colours that much anyway.

Grey and brown would do.

'That makes for a sad child'

my mother would say.

And why are you so silent little one?

Slowly drifting away,

Unhinged.

How can I

make it better?

And how can I

make me better?

Where

to go from here...

11/2022