The weekend of my life is almost over,
and the thrill of the UNKNOWN waits
like Monday morning,
like an expatriated shell on a beach, a shell
with a heart cold as space itself.
Years ago, this was rhymed to me –
‘never underestimate a child who is a time-rich and cash-poor. And yet I did it.
Now I’m like a lost spaceship, adrift.
Nothing is as tedious as the limping days on this cockney island,
Even that happiness, Mr Adam once had
in the garden of Eden,
got him bored to eat the apple.
Let my flesh be perished with me,
let me not transmit to anyone
the boredom of my life.
Oh depression is the most faithful mistress I have known, she harrows my heart.