Are you having fun yet?
He sleazes into your ear
A breath of aniseed and copper coins
Slides down your neck-
He’s gathered you all here
And now,
You are not sure why.
Perhaps you were swept up in the sea of bodies
Perhaps
He opened the furnace
For you to come and rattle round inside.
You see him,
intermittently,
in between light and bodies.
His neon legion trotting close behind,
despite his calculated neglect.
It’s an approach he’s honed,
in the last eight years on the job.
Are you having fun yet?
He whispers
Does that rising bile outmatch your mother’s distance?
Do you feel better
now you’re doing what you’re meant to?
The first time is free.
The space it’s in however
You can’t get back
You can only give it to me.
I hope you’ve got it in you
To find another like yourself.
Find them investigating
The backs of their eyelids
For (as always) they also
Couldn’t take the strain.
Best of luck you do
and perhaps you might get out of this mess.
By Samuel Wake