Whelmed

a work in progress

sometimes i feel like
a pringle can at 30,000ft
bloated with the pressure of being the only resealable snack available
to entertain a toddler on a delayed 5 hour flight

sometimes i feel like
a discarded amazon box
slowly soaking up the piss and rain
into my cardboard shell
until i flex and buckle under the responsibility
of protecting a €7.99 ultrasonic glasses cleaning and jewellery tray

sometimes i feel like
the swiss cheese plant in the corner
ignored for the past 3 months
leaves curling and yellow
unsure if i drank too much or not enough
and in definite need of daylight

sometimes i feel like
the top digestive biscuit in the bag
too soft to be consumed
but necessary to protect the overall viability of the entire group

sometimes i feel like
the gritty bit at the bottom of the bath
once the water has drained away
and the tiny hairs that once grew upon my legs
now stick aimlessly to their porcelain graveyard
a ritualistic garden