Foreshortening

When you break it down it’s
A man shaking an angry fist at
A godless sky whilst holding a
Poultice to his cheekbone with
The other hand
As someone who realised
Recently that time is finite I’ve
Been having trouble holding onto
Anything other than an unshakeable
Belief in oblivion
My eyes blink at the uncovered
60 watt bulb spewing light on the doc’s
Certificates and there’s a red book sat
Congruously open on the desk so
I tell him my shit
He tells me of the importance of cause
And effect and how only I can exact
My destiny and it’s written here in his
Book that he tries to hawk to me at less
Than suggested retail price
So I ride the bus three blocks until
I see the florist lady with her
Bunches of bright whatever
They are and then I get off and
Walk the rest
Stuff the bouquet through your
Letterbox with a note attached that
Expresses undying regret that I couldn’t
Have said sorry when it would have made
A difference to you
Then I’m like The Boss with a
Neutral coloured beanie and five days
Growth stuck on my face walking past
Some old shanty town there murmuring
About my loss

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