28 October 2013


So the fan merely recycles heat as a blast of air, 
the energy neatly replayed relieving some of an 
apathetic stultification you’ve simmered in, your 
melt-down torso baring’s seen better days - and 
isn’t pretty; a rhetorical ‘when is it gonna cease’ 
quizzing suggests there’s despair inventing the 
air-conditioner again for no reason other than a 
subject guaranteed entrenched controversy 

But not by me you mutter, teeth gritted in a grin 
arguing there’s more to it than giving in easily - 
he who learns to run away lives with less angst 
than ‘heroes’ copping it sweet; yep seems heat 
really brings out the best in my ability to shrink 
comfortably through vague eco-reasoning 
© 11 October 2013, I. D. Carswell