notesfromthewaitingroom

All the thousand pin-pricks of exasperation
All the thousand needles of annoyance
All the thousand grits of irritation
That we are heir to,
Accumulate drop by drop,
Month by month,
Dripping inexorably into my mind’s chalice,
Filling it, filling it to the brim
And then, pausing at the lip,
Surface-tension brimming
Suddenly spills over, silent wine-red tears
Flowing down the silver vessel’s curved side
Staining the white cloth,
Running down the table-leg
And spreading a damp pool
On the dusty floor.

19th NERVOUS BREAKDOWN