Over The Edge [r] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Why is it so easy to compound one mistake with
50 more missteps - having eaten spicy food and
feeling ill, it came naturally to eat sausages and
as a result droop like an ancient person of a 110,
unable to lift my head and stand or sit at my desk,
no concentration on prescribed decrees for plant
health protection, no dreams to fill the darkness

Behind my mind, no fun, no energy, no ideas; lost
without the capacity to think - only my conscience
makes me pitch up at work like a pack animal still
carrying the burden of this physical life which was
messed up by allergens, my countering with more
food failing miserably, no antidote works & sugar
makes it worse, looking at plant legislation simply

Drives me over the edge - every minute takes an
hour to pass while every second lasts an eternity,
my lament is there is no need to eat those things
& I can do better than this - here is my plan for a
new beginning: never be caught in this trap again
because being a real zombie is one of the most
awful things in human experience