The Kitchen

Spinning, Twisting day on day,
Fizzling at the surface,
The moisture,
The smell,
The taste,
Whirling at the depths,
In this perpetual tumble dryer
The delicates don’t last long here
Visions of past, present now so untouchable

Spin,
Tumble,
Dry

Sizzling, tremors, fissures form,
Force my eye-lids shut
See yourself, blinded, reborn
The Earth spins
On its axis,
Without sensation
Become oblivious!
A horrible mutation
Of remorse and tranquility,
This beige existence
Unseasoned and bland
Nothing here is special

Spin,
Tumble,
Dry

Inverted droplets, fall upwards,
Into an empty lifeless orbit,
No impact,
Halt the spin, just for a second
Long enough,
Plagiarise a dream
A subdued mind,
Can do no better
The moisture,
The smell,
The taste,
Nothing here is special.

I’ve been here too long
It’s irreversible
I’m shrunk

© Fionn Kelvin Thomas 2019

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