If Only Poem by Margaret Alice Second

With great sorrow I read these lines
over and over: ‘Your body is a pure
reflection of the balance of thoughts
that you think' - a headache caused

by my addiction to taste and quick
pick-me-ups; attempts to break this
enslavement by sitting still without
sensory stimulation except for

words on paper and a screen with
pictures in between - terms which
do not sing, meaning unrelated to
spelling & sound is all that counts

The only sensation the unalloyed
boredom of being ensconced on
a high chair to straighten my back
only the air-con's soft susurration

And voices - relaying information on
work problems - if only I had access
to metaphysical thoughts to lift me
up like a spiritual Indian Fakir

My body would have been happy to
exist in limbo without experiencing
any kind of sensory stimulation, a
sense of taste is the only thing

That makes me think I'm alive - the
official lines on death, destruction
and fraud leave me cold - dead
in my chair - dying some more