Escape Root

Escape Root (22nd January, 2009, 2.25pm)

Today is sponsored by overtired SAD
and the high squeals of the black-clad
birds of prey; I pray on my own time,
rack the vestiges of my loosened mind.

Can I extract myself from this room?
Pull on a parachute and let it bloom,
a small explosion of colour, red or
blue; something primary: a metaphor.

I press my feet into resisting carpetry,
sending out a hopeful, desperate plea;
first attempt at growing an escape root
from the bottoms of my feet, a shoot.

Don’t shoot the messenger’s demands;
press lined paper, bored pens into hands,
crack the window, not with small heads;
count the slow-advancing hours ‘til bed.

Today is courtesy of exhaustion central,
nervous breakdown-breaktime mental;
my ‘I love my job’ mantra on rinse-repeat,
I try not to shout ‘sit in your ****ing seat!’