Sick of London

Sick of london

Sick of his morbid parks

Sick of the elegant corners that splinter

                                                               your eyes

Sick of the mood of the Thames that pours like gravy

Sick of the looting

Sick of the ancientness 

Sick of all the smiles that rise from the dead

Sick of the bombs that did not blow

Sick of the scars in every brick

Sick of whatever life here was promised

Since a narrow path brought me here

Exactly outside of a home that was for you

A point for starting a point

That for me was one for returning

                                                      to be Sick

inside a lonely room to Plan a War.

                                                                                                5 - V - 2023