' My 19th Nervous Breakdown Poem by Doral Deepset

' My 19th Nervous Breakdown

Rating: 2.8


The bus stops
outside a shop

most inappropiately named
THE BEAUTY SPOT

(which it is - not) .

I gaze at it for
quater of an hour or more

bored
(oh so bored)

as we go
nowhere...fast.

There is no Present or no
Future anymore

- just the Past.

And then when
the traffic slowly un-
-snarls

(I manicially smiling)

& we finally move
all of 50 feet or more

only to come
to a stand still

outside a betting shop
grinding to a furious halt at

FIRST PAST THE POST
for another 20 minutes more

I am suddenly 7 to 1 favourite
to go stark raving mad.

All the stops seem
to mock

my extreme lateness.

Ahhh....good...Goodmayes &
St. George's Hospital have just arrived

where I get off
& walk

(fast as I can)

rather than be
addmitted for muy

19th Nervous
Breakdown.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tai Chi Italy 08 February 2009

lol I hate public transport with a passion, only 19th? smiling manically, Tai

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