Internal combustion

It’s just another
neuron
moving in on
another neuron,
kicking a gear
getting near to
however near
it can be.

Free radicals with
liberal intentions.

Impulses pull me
tag me and quite playfully
fire away.

The Central line
instrumental
and all relative
to the time it takes.

Breaking ground
but
I am going around
in circles.

Sixty one
and moving in on
another neuron
another change of gear
and no looking back
in the rear
view mirror.

Last year which seems like
forever ago
and
it would when time’s so slow
is still with me.

I’m praying
rapidly,
giving in to stop
God from slapping me
in the face.

It wakes me up
but there’s no emergency
I’m used to it by now.

I see bags on the floor
and bags under my eyes
and hear Cilla singing
surprise
suprise

I know it’s a radio
on
low frequency
to which
I frequently listen.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.