from the tattered remains

of a low dream

that my love

in all it’s endeavours

has been useless

to breakfast

this beaming child

has made me

a dead man’s case

parboiled eggs

not quite white

mucilaginous snot

standing smiling

as i lift the top

watching waiting as

i pour it out

wondering if i might puke

sifting thru’ to find solids

as the toast soaks

in this steady silence

i ask for orange juice

in the hope she’ll leave

so’s i can find a way out

knowing if i refuse this

there will be upset

at my lack of appreciation

yet if i eat the hurt & hurl

will come for me

then properly i wake

to find all of my love

my dreams have been in vain