At work
My eyes had gone white
My pupils had gone
My irises were pale
They said ‘You need to get the edge back’
Like a sword in the fire?
Like the end of a ruler?
The brink of your seat
Before falling off and
Making an arse of yourself?
Now it was their turn to stare blankly
‘You need to get your edge back’
Fucking edges
I’ll put snakes in my shoes
Deplete your coffee supplies
‘Heaven cannot run W/O coffee’
‘Well, Hell cannot run without beer’
I shimmer at my perimeters
My presence swallows space
You go sit at sea with your edges
I’ll be that shadow lurking beneath the boat
A horror of some proportions
Fucking edges
I’ll put snakes in your shoes.
