Wicker Basket

One day I was looking at myself in the mirror and noticed that my lips were cracked and chapped, I had dark circles under the eyes and ink stained finger tips.  This poem just sort of popped into my head and didn’t require any editing.

WICKER BASKET

Cracked and chapped lips
ink stained finger tips
patiently neurotic
the plain exotic

Dark circles beneath the eyes
Covered in a sepia of insipid lies
Effortlessly drained
This psychotic maimed

Comfortably numb
Life has struck me dumb
Depressed and tired
Badly in need of being re-wired

An ocean of memories won and lost
All these emotions crumbling to dust
An armful of neuroses and habits
Why would you want to love this wicker basket?

Ruth Weal 09 October 2006 12.54 am
Copyright R Weal 2006