White Noise in Queen’s English
Bracing myself
for a date with fear,
I started breathing,
the way children breathe
after crying their eyes out.
Gasping for a
whiff of fresh air,
I caught my breath
leaving red handed,
in a cloud of blue smoke,
with a bunch of cigarettes.
I felt my lungs crush like
sponge cakes in a food fight,
then fear walked in.
She grabs hold
of my sweatshirt,
pulls me in slowly, and
whispers some white noise
in Queen’s English.
I think fear has a sweet tooth.
She wants to trade some respite
for some oreos and cheesecake.
She’s always known what I need
and today, I need to breathe easy.
But why doesn’t she know
when she’s not welcome?
The guestroom is unfurnished,
and there is no tea to serve
these cakes and biscuits with.
Still, she drops by
ever so often,
to sit here with me
and my stream of thoughts,
as we dream of flying colours,
and floating castles in the sky.
