He feels the weight of it

He feels the weight of it

Expectation

Once great

Barely realised.

Disappointment

Has the upper hand

The flat of it

Never spared

He gives thanks to his dad

For that

It is part superstition

Part supplication

With a pinch of neurodivergence

Thrown in

For self- justification

Or pity's sake

Either one

Makes no difference

To the outcome.

The sweat from his brow

Pools

On the wax tablecloth

He melts a little

More each day

Slip sliding into the deep

Swallowed into the maw

Of a black hole.

Hell’s hounds abound

This close to the edge

Their jaws

Slaver and chatter

A constant clickety clack

Accompaniment

A glockenspiel

Stuck between his ears

Nine bloody rings

Of infernal torment.

One day

After another

Self-delusion

Is a bear trap

He constructed a prison

Built the walls himself

Boarded up the windows

Barred the door

Locked the past inside

It has nowhere else to go

Whatever happened

To the future

Was consigned

To history

Long ago