Nite-Glow
A small ball lies near me
A spheroid thing
It’s alleged to glow in the dark
Yet only does when it hasn’t been in the light.
A curious object —
I squeeze it because doctors tell me
I have too much stress.
A way of easing the load,
So they say.
Yet who would know what of a load,
Who have never loved?
Yet I look at the thing,
Neon green in its ordinariness,
Comfortably resting on my wine-stained carpet,
Nestled next to a Netflix return envelope
Not far from the worn edge of a desk,
Ill-used, yes, but functional,
A FIFA 14 box containing said Netflix DVD,
Not far from an unread TLS.
I think of Ozymandias.
Look on my works and despair.
Perhaps there is only despair.
Destructive Anachronism 