I have been knocked over this week
Like pins at a bowling alley
Kicked and thrashed
Battered against the back
Of that mysterious black bit
You can’t see behind
Throttled by failure
Plagued by faux pas
And today I am supposed to dust
Myself off and present the shiniest
Brushed aluminium version of myself
To a total stranger
Desperately seeking an escape route
A respite for this mangled brain.
Talking to my pillow. 