I\'m waiting for the witch doctor to arrive
With nasturtiums to perform magic
I scratch the itch, I kill it
I\'m growing impatient by the minute
Watching the clock tick
Things couldn\'t get any worse
I\'m moonstruck, doubting myself
I could pule trying to live
Like a total blasphemous addict
I\'m melancholic, hopelessly forlorn
Thrilled by the husk of a saxophone
I have been binging on my fears
Been doing this for years
By now I get on the bike and go
I know the acute pangs like the back of my hand
I push them out like I knead dough
It\'s gibberish to me, I toil and feel pain
Coughing up phlegm, a storm
The burden on my back is weighing me down
My blood is boiling like an African horizon
I\'ve detected I\'ve erred
I\'m beleaguered, a void shell
Crack me like a nut, I\'m a falling skyscraper
Ocean-wide and as deep as a lexicon
I make no sense
Churning out long winded poems, emollient-like
I\'ve waded into the water
Hungover
I\'m unemployed, like a butterfly trapped in a jar
A bipolar yo-yo, up and down
Like a limb
In the city, enthralled by newfangled technology
I\'m a deer in the headlights in my favourite habiliments
I\'m a negligent continuation, a bad influence
Whispering about the decadence
With sunken eyes and laughter lines
Pouring molasses.