the lights hum
an entropic kitchen greets
my rumination hang-over

if Socrates was a man
and all men wear leather shoes
(the slip on kind, he never bothered with laces)
then, then,
am I the monster under the bed?

stiff knees persist
anxious fingers plow
greasy hair
autopilot falters

milk and tea
tea and milk
I used to repent for spilt milk

time like a helix
cave dwellers paradise

today we conquer! 
that was yesterday


i think the universe
missed my name
in the roll call
lanky misfigured youth
singular misconduct
terrified of infinity
a concentrated

i miss the
frozen gravel
how it would crumble
with anticipation
close second
to my hand trailing
along the chainlink fence
reverberations like
i miss
waking to the
news anchors voices
warming the
and munching on
melba toast
straight from
the oven
just for me
you said

good morning to the
blue box house
to the hum
of hip-hop
emanating from the
new world basement

good morning to the
kingdom of symmetry
where multi-coloured
notepads and textbooks
promise lands they’ll never know

good morning to an
emeshed zoo of emotions
doors slamming
chairs flying
Murphy’s law
i suppose