Inhale, You’re the Victim
by David R J Sealey
I watch your chest, rising and falling,
I’m not afraid but I am young
and I’ve gone away, but not from you,
please open your eyes, see this through.
You’re old, but not old enough,
are you happy inside, or welling up?
And all you felt and all you knew,
is that all that there was to you?
I long to leave and take you home,
to bury our heads back in the sand,
and when the hand hits five o’clock
we can watch Come Dine With Me.
There aren’t enough hours in the day
and we cannot see above the spray
that we’re balanced atop a tsunami,
roaring towards our destiny.
Where is our home again?
Is it where we used to guess
who would win and who’d get fired?
It would be nice not to feel tired,
to drift away in a midnight calm,
to wake up without an alarm,
hoist my main sail in the breeze
and sail away, far away from harm.