#77 - (That's Not A Title Suggestion)

which comes as a blessed relief,
a little breather between controlled detonations
where I try to slap some circulation back
into my fat, numb legs, pick
fragments of Kinder Bueno from my molar pits
and experience mild visual hallucinations
(little hypercoloured worms, fluxing depth
perception, entry level stuff).

I grasp for a finish line analogy,
but I'm too tired to hold it till it fixes.