Farmers’ Market

 

 

 

Writing to survive writing to stay alive to stave off intensity

 

you put a stick in the shit and sent it

 

you put up with life’s admin 

 

yes no sense because it ran off

 

you live in a

 

chaos of words 

 

in the night dance daily

 

lifting sighing breathing 

 

stalk DNA 

 

drug test countermeasures

 

the struggle is moments away

 

regional police force 

 

do not have the manpower 

 

to fight these levels of criminality

 

festering in the margins 

 

of a burnt out welfare state

 

what hooks hold us up 

 

no dynasty to connect with

 

walking the phone to work

 

a life’s worth of direct debit follows you around

 

like a magpie in the periphery

 

trying to catch those shiny moments that gleam off centre

 

make it all worth while

 

go college get knowledge

 

I’ve got ADHD and maybe Autism or a combination of the both

 

if I could rent them out I would 

 

like trestle tables at a country fayre

 

slap a massive pumpkin on the forehead

 

work the vegetables make them pay

 

pickles and punches produce for sale

 

spiced apple chutneys lined up and labelled lovingly

 

go for a run now

 

don’t look back.