crackedmirrors and angelpie

No escape route

The waves on the Norfolk beach ebb and flow,

attraction of deserted shingle as illusory

as smoke from the cigarette in my hand.

 

 

Madness is not real

They pay lip service to the idea

of parity of esteem.

We all know that cancer

is real and deserving

of our research and monies.

Meanwhile the mad

deserve what they get.

 

 

We do not conform

The cycle of life, they say.

With death comes birth, they say.

We who step outside the circle,

Where do we go?

 

 

I do not know whether I want coffee or tea

Who shall we invite?

You decide, you write.

Which route shall we take?

You decide, you choose.

I have prepared, but

you cook, your meal.

Choices explode into a whirlwind,

there is no compass in my head.

Still they do not understand

that I do not understand.