29 May 2013



Between anxiety and depression, maybe 
somewhat removed by an idiosyncratic, 
antediluvian pretension that, heavens 

forbid, cannot be me as I never was a 
textbook superluminal or egomaniacal 
absurdity. Yet the woodwork’s stained. 

Not by future fears; don't look ahead with 
paranoid fixations, bother worrying, or fail 
to see the here and now as an absorbing

comedy already, so press on to a dog’s 
message on the wallpaper – someone pees it 
when we’re not looking; catching ‘em isn’t 

an option if you unselfconsciously redact while 
asleep, or with tragic repercussions if woken 
in the act. And that is an underlying 

fear, discovering where you’re at isn’t 
where you promised yourself you’d 
ever want to be 
© 7 May 2013, I. D. Carswell