#33 - Too Happy To Write

I glimpsed infinity once -
dull as a circle.
Contentment has no flaws to clutch
your cleats into

and for that reason
I'm out.

Whenever a girl ends a relationship with me,
I feel the ringing in my ears
and the cold surge at the front of my cranium
and I think:
oh good,
I can use this to curry favour
with an audience at a later date.

When things go well, I get edgy
as a wireframe dodecahedron.
There is no grist in this pleasant
candlelit dinner,
I tell myself,
and pass the shitting salt.