pear-shaped days

you sent me to a place, where the routine

substitutes for all clock ticks

everything seems grey despite the sun shining

through a white wide open sash window

maintained by unskilled hands

not like yours, always ready to help

I forgot what it’s like

to be guided only by you, deeply

only you could reverse it

everything that drowned in a deep blue sea

of dangerously scattered thoughts

I hope

that this bad tape will never return

mingling my mind with the chaotic miasma appearing

pear-shaped

when everything went wrong

in this desk jockey case

having no equivalent in life

I guess that’s where

all the stereotypes and bad experiences arise

like baking a poisonous cake

and measuring life in coke spoons

and forgetting about it all together

when it’s gone

it will never be reborn

in any humanistic form

*

the will to exist

everything depends on it