Capacity To Feel (Revised)

A hat, even the one adorned with pearls and silver flowers
disguising bright pink ones on it already, doesn’t help if its
wearer cannot smile - and I can’t this morning, tried it, sang
‘Oh you can kiss me on a Monday’ to lift a colleague from
doldrums and though she smiled unwillingly, she said the
song didn’t help at all

It didn’t help me either, counting my secret sins to find out
which foodstuffs caused this psychopathic torpor feeling,
fruit cake of course, bread and new kettle-fried chips with
avocado dip, a list of my sins is endless, must be resigned
and wait until the sun melts my frozen heart, keep a low
profile – must stay calm

While my head is being ground by allergy, even loving
articles by spiritual Anne can’t touch my frosted feelings,
a buzzing of many voices in the office led to another round
of André Rieu, Death Dancing once again and I wish
to sleep, last night I couldn't and now my eyelids close
themselves, my grand plans

for marching through my text and slashing all resistance
against target terms, wrestling style and grammar gremlins
until my translation was perfect; came to nought, I’m just
an automaton without a soul - at least I don’t have to worry
about paying the ferryman, my soul is somewhere else and
without the capacity to feel

Life bores me all the time…

[25/11/2013]