After Thought

What’s your anxiety? I keep thinking I’m going to die.

What’s the cure? Stop stroking despair. Why do we worry?

It keeps us alert. We’ve heard that line a dozen times.

I’m getting tired of it. Can’t you change conclusions?

Let’s elaborate. Must we? I’m afraid so. All right.

But make it brief. Would I do anything else?

We went from go to slow.

You see. I’ve almost forgotten.

Yet, just in time. What’s the game?

Play safely [a postscript].

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What If It Were?

I’m tired of drawing the line. I hate to be told.

How come no one’s not an authority on?

A set of drills to show others.

I’m the expert here. By extension I take after life.

I’m first in the field. Doing what comes naturally.

It’s in play when the curtain comes down.

Why does so much make me want to scratch?

It’s not that I’m depressed.

Asked what he was on irritants.

A growing intolerance of.

Belief’s an obvious antidote.

It should be me but I believe in no particular order.

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How Do You Idle?

The cement bricks us together.

I don’t want your analysis.

Let me generate emotion. Fuck the source.

Must you always preach?

Don’t tell us why you’ve got to communicate. Do it.

What’s the content going to be?

A tour of the grid. Don’t you mean poetics?

Like minds use the same drugs.

I’m going to stop taking tea.

I’ll probably fall asleep for the winter.

I’ve often asked myself. What’s the purpose of boredom?

What’s your denomination? Anxiety.

I’ve got my aural territory to defend, you know.

I’m a sensitive creature. Noise disturbs me.

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The Opposite of Ordinary

literary, affluent, arty, expensively
educated, feckless, usually rewarded.

poetry appeals to the upwardly mobile aesthete.

The dandified and over-privileged.

Unlike the the decent and hard-working.

Middle-class elements in society.

Reproach foppish incompetence.

Threaten undeserved culture eminence.

He was suspicious of liberals and intellectuals.

The case against bloodless abstraction.

What got under his skin was snobbery and condescension.

Hate and bigotry across the social classes.

Cultivating poetic obscurity to keep popularity at bay.

Linguistic resonance and evocative phrases.

The grinding boredom and patrician self-regard.

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Consumed by Herself

That’s what you resent, isn’t it?

Do you want the same colour or highlights?

There’s no point my going into predicaments. Help’s at hand.

Excuse me. Yes? I wonder if you’d mind helping me?

What is it? Well, I think I’m drowning.

It quickly grows tedious, doesn’t it?

Alright, you want to say. We get the point. Don’t elaborate.

The less perceptive among you want it explained.

You resent my creativity.

There’s not much in you I want.

No, I’ll withdraw that was said because I’m hurt.

What I want from you don’t appreciate.

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