Losing it [poem]

Posted on Updated on


the Point which one can reach
when there is little left for which to live
is like a repulsive magnet
pulling you upanddown
in the costume of a clown
while policemen narrow their dragnet
It is a mindless moth and a candle
a superglued door handle
like heavily salted apple pie
the cigarette pack which says you’ll die
like throwing up and making love
at the same time
as you lose the key
to the postbox of your destiny

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s