obsession

Obsession

Once it seemed so easy to write.
Now words are frozen,
The land I inhabit impossible to map.
Words rail me round,
I stumble.
Continents might shift
And I would still be here
Part of a still-life,
Or finding that the food on the table,
Was really plaster all the time.
Everything is like this;
Trees, houses, streets: a facade.
I don’t like wearing a watch,
For I could follow the second-hand round
For days on end. Yes, this is my obsession,
That we are all in a waiting room,
Expecting a departure or arrival
Which never comes, watching a clock
On the wall, an implacable electric clock.
In my dreams I am a millionaire,
On waking I feel as though I’ve lost a kingdom.
Will it ever be the same again?


Christopher Baily

©estate of christopher baily