there's 50 shades of grey and i chose dishwater

it's a soggy, drizzly something or other

that passes through me

it wobbles and shivers

except it also sticks in my throat

and makes me cry

and my bones ache all the time trying to contain its gelatinous weight

like aspic in pasty pastry without any meat

i often gag and then wonder

why?

i can't contain it like pastry would

i do not amount to pie

that would be something of a meal, which I am not

although, i am making a meal of this

sat in my dressing gown in a room i painted grey

who wants to be surrounded by dishwater all day?

i knew what i wanted when i put the effort in to change

i had colour charts and mood boards

i knew what was all the rage

(there's my age)

and i came away with plughole sludge

i guess it manifests this way

perhaps it's infectious too

do people see behind the bandaged smile?

the patina tears that the brass of me cries

do they know that's where my sepsis hides?

i don't know anymore what the weather is inside

wet, mostly

can be prone to cold

or stoned, but

moss does not grow, and

nor does my mind

it's shrivelled between the lumps of earth two feet above the end of a whetted Yorkshire wall

i do not intend to climb any higher

God can love all the triers

i just want to stop

and swallow, and breathe freely again

did i ever?

i want to not want to get off this spinning world

i want to feel safe and warm and loved and held

i want the fucking rainbow colours

without the crazy

although...

my husband always says i want the moon on a stick

he's probably right

he should be proud he taught me to dance beneath the weight

aspic doesn't do music

it slides off the stave

but i don't

i cling to it like an extraneous pulse pulling me on

but i am older now, and the airwaves are quieter, and the bandwidth is narrower

nobody likes music for one

that's why it comes with stadiums and halls

it's not meant for sludgy rooms

no acoustic. no life

dishwater will drown all that

as it drips down the walls

with my mood in its slipstream

ugh, i bore myself

i am drizzle