#50 - Air-Punch

Yes! I've reached 50 poems!
This is almost as good as that time
I got off with three birds in one

week then got nearly five hundred quid
back in tax, I say to an empty room
that smells of stale washing.

I need to pee. I am nauseous, paranoid,
stricken with double-vision,
behind schedule and watching as my work

declines in quality, hitting a new low
as it becomes meta, self-referential,
a cry for help as the spike roof descends.