Time Does Not Fly, it Plummets

Waiting for that animation to arrive
the slight currents that bring us to life
creating a tap dancing clattering that fills a small hazy corner
bordered by books, surrounded by artificial light and colour
and there it was, or maybe not? And they’re off again!

Chasing dust mites and gathering starlight seems easy
in comparison to hunting these metaphysical beasts
through a labyrinthine forest in the deadly night
binding a dragon with a ball of twine
or drowning the Kraken in a bottle of wine.

Silver mottled blue bottle submarine creatures deceive
swarming schools of basking shark stealth bombers
sixty four humming hulks of black invisible oblivion
small scale tactical obliteration
casually parked on a tarmac
or hovering backwards and upside down
swimming in the watercolour seaside sunset spectacle
as the lemon flavoured rays surrender to the taste
biting without teeth
bitter and yet sweet
graceful in victory or beer battered defeat.

Since we last spoke the world has burned
my friend what were we ever going to do?
Against this tide of foul aggression and self-possession
besieged on all side by mutants of every degeneration,
I know you would have fought well,
I pray that somewhere you still do,
while my coward heart writhes in shame.

Devour the memory
starve the soul.

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