When which sounds like wen,
but has a different meaning,
that’s how it starts,
you’re picking at spots on the ceiling
feeling the spots on your skin,
looking for Jesus in cornflakes
and wondering where he fits in.
Climbing the walls for the ivy
because the ivy dried up on the trail
making chalk outlines on pavements,
hoping the judge gives you bail.
Not trying to die
but dying to try
the last word in tasteless
to get me some kudos
to give me some status.
It’s always the when
when he questions again
and it sounds like a wen
but it’s not.
© 2019, John Smallshaw.