On a slow slide, till the decline expands
and makes itself my home. It's trinkets
and comforts offer that short hit of relief,
a constant loop that is far to easy to maintain.
A streak of luck justifies this rut, a payout
that keeps the momentum afloat.
light slices through those blinds like stiff drinks
though boredom, again barley excusing
those pointless means.
I begrudgingly praise those who escape,
with the usual back handed dissidence,
believing I have stockpiled the excuses
that are perishing under this weight,
and are running rather thin.
Jonathan Butcher was born and lives in Sheffield, England.
He has been writing poetry for around fifteen years, and has
had work appear in various print and online publications.
His Third chapbook 'Corroded Gardens' was published in 2019
by Fixator Press.
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