Crouding Around Delusion

All of the road bumps, light.

Hard on the bare plastic.

Light in the dregs of nowhere.

One dim street lamp, to the next.


Idealism rocketing around.

Amphetamine, reaching light-speed.

With the bumps, the rumbles, the cognitive jumbles.


Doors closed,

Spirits living high, hopeful.

Backpack rattling away with needed fuel,

A little fire in the ever-night.

Crackling, burning, smoke rising high.


Laughter breaks the silence,

Half-drunken vigour, ruling.

Into the darkness, one small step.

Music in my ears; base heavy, rattling.


Farm-grass beneath the feet of dozens

Lighting the fires of careless youth.

Tires screeching…

Alone amidst the crowd.

A few friends beside, nothing more,

Not enough.

Not to crack such a fleeting consciousness.


Pull tabs, pulled;

Bottle tops, popped.

Chaos lingering, unperturbed.

Sexual laughter, tension, aching in the air.

A wish to place ragged hands anywhere.


I sat, jumper hanging loosely from my back.

Out of sight, out of the fire’s irreverent glow.

A few hugs, but even those –

Wrong; written to fail.


Down: one, two, three, four, five, six-


And more…

Time nothing but an illusion,

A construct in the fragility of existence;

Within the wood-smoke, the midge bites.

Truly alone, despite the crowd.




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