Time is time was.

Time is time was.

It always led somewhere

Not so easy to follow

The beating of iron

The heat of the forge

Blistered fingers

Working the tools

Crawling in muck

Branded by coal dust

Soaked into the skin

As black as old bones

Bitten to the marrow

Lifted by the years

Dropped down

Out of the blue

Into a nightmare

War-torn

Pressed into service

The deserving poor

The skilled practitioner

The dark arts

Failing all needs

Falling away with the effort

Of keeping up

Working on paper

Finger painting

Blue sky thinking

Building a future

Living a past

Running the system

Bucking a trend

Always ready

Never expected

But expectant of change

In the order of things

Time was

Time is

Without substance

Slipping through

Rheumatoid fingers.

Time was

They held tools

Of office

Of mechanics

Lost to statistics.

The folly of men

Always led somewhere

Closer to being

Than a footnote

But time was

As time is,

Always un-becoming.

The completely made up one

Or The geriatric one.

You pull me up

Push me down

Offer me a steaming cup

It burns my tongue

Dribbles down my front

I spit it out

It hits your face

You slap me hard

It is my fault

I am too old

Too frail

I shout you wail

Locked in mortal combat

Rolling on the floor

I don’t want to be here anymore

You pull away

Snarl and curse

I don’t know what is worse

To die alone

Or wish it done

By your hand

Or once you’ve gone

I am not too old

To forget.

You shout

“Just another drunken lout

With the heebeegeebees

Driving me crazy.”

Hallucinations

Used to be fun

Until they were hijacked

By a humpbacked whale

A dolphin birthing a cockroach

With snake eyes

And eagle-sized flies

Buzzing around in my head.

Oh lord

I wish I was dead

Or waking up

In a king-sized bed

With the mother and father

Of a hangover

A pool of blood on the floor

Soiled underwear

And short-term memory loss