Clutching cadaverous
for any protracted period of time
has a subtle way of seducing
an active mind

into fantasies…

of vigor
and return to robust health.

I’ll eat like an athlete
preparing for an Iron Man!
I’ll sprint like a cheetah
hurtling ‘cross the Serengeti plains!

I’ll train like a pugilist
pounding victory upon my chest
and hunt like a falcon
chasing the howling wind!

I’ll snore superciliously
like a lazing lion dreaming,
sleeping off’
a royal feast
and bask, like a languishing lauderdale lizard
thawing in the heat of a tropical sun.

To reunite with life with lust!
despite all good intentions,
these tall, concocted promises made
come seldom to fruition.

When imperceptibly,

the spirited cyclone catapults me
mindlessly,
back

Smack!

Square, into the middle
of a whirling shark’s soup
of busyness as usual.

Welcome,
to Tazmania!