It’s just in my head
A race car revving its engine
And accelerating
acrid smoke going up my nose
and into my eyes
runaway time
No escape from the pressure
It’s a pressure cooker
on slow cook
tenderising my brain
making gravy out of thoughts
making films out of visions
Standing in line
normality is shattered
my heart thuds, my head hurts
in the calamity of Liszt
dreary dry roads exhaust smoke
rubber dust and smog
breathe away your purity
as the man-made pollutes
and makes your daisy a triangle
the grass is introspection
on a summers day
breathe away your purity
as age gets its way.
