10 July 2012



A big morning – and given the way
of yesterday probably all one could
expect; last night’s gastric fantasy
meant two changes of bed-linen,
and today three loads of washing

Still caught in effects – stomach is
a battle zone, wet farts punctuate
an after-the-event hesitancy to do
anything in a peremptory manner,
and one assumes for the best

Yet its absence of a gourmand’s or
epicure’s craving that creates the
most stress; stomach aching and
hunger pangs ablated in the wake
of 48 hrs abstinence, thankfully 

Mind plays games, anarchy reflects
upon whether certainty is that ‘you
are what you eat’ – if it’s true I am
a hologram’s label chastened by a
stout man’s sensory deprivation
© 19 April 2012, I. D. Carswell