Loud and Clear

Making life rich for the poor.
The lager lorry drives by.

I can’t help but think that it’s a lie.

That really it makes you sick.
Bites your heart out chunk by chunk.
Swills your life away.
Tastes bad.

Flavour means nothing when the world turns poor.
Light fails to shine.
Darkness fails to scare.

The emptiness a big lorry waiting to crash.

I pretend the emptiness is not there.
Wrap it up in story bows.

I create a world of puzzles and words when all I need is simplicity.

Stop.
I see you.
I know what you have done.

Instead there are sliding scales and comparative charts.
Things that have no meaning to a life disappearing chunk by chunk.

As if I demonstrate a perfect ten of disappear I will be sent from the chiropody clinic to a room full of flowers and cards. A big fluffy bed and a cup of tea when Felder and Alice leave me.

Of course it will never come.
Comfort cannot be delivered in a lorry or marked down on a chart.

I go back to the prayer board.
As if Jesus himself would pick up a pencil and write a reply.

The voices are loud today so I sit in the seat and drop my head.

Dear J.
Do not board the lager lorry.
Stop eating your veins and killing your heart.
Treasure your name and enjoy the candy.

The message is all so very simple.
All so loud and clear.