Dear Angst Ridden Poetry 2,
Well that was foolish, leaving a typed up poem in a file labelled miscellaneous. The computer’s owner has only gone and found it and is going to publish it to complement the previous anthology so everyone can take the piss again.
Lot’s Of Love
Knees drawn up to my chest I sit inside my box,
The slighly damp base smells faintly of kerosene.
I listen and wait
Idly the minutes tick by as I pick at a scab on my ankle,
A fly buzzes overhead, my box is open to the still cloudless sky,
Yet confined all around me,
I yearn to escape yet lack the motivation, the willpower,
Lethargy sets in
My fingers turn to cement
One by one my toes are set in concrete,
My once agile limbs a frozen in inertia
And so I sit
Breathing becomes laboured as my lungs start to solidify, there is an intense pressure from inside and out yet with no release.
I remain motionless,
Captured in time