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
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