Nihil sub sole novum
Three in the morning.
Awake,
Throat
Trilling;
Rasping
Scuffing.
Saliva nodularity,
Inclusion.
Exasperation
And
Exhaustion.
Numb.
Shaking,
Repeating
on
Itself.
Marionette
Tarantella.
Frustrated
Antigone.
Moment
Like
Soft
Candy;
rock
From
Blackpool;
Stretched
from
Here to
there,
Twisted,
Manipulated;
Elongated
to an infinitesimal shattering.
Inside
oneself;
Trapped in the
Now.
Shuttered
Behind
Doors.
Smothered,
Smogged.
Mendicant.
The more you bang your head against the wall
the more
The wall refuses to respond.
Cup runneth over;
Water washes away.
&
Nothing new under the
sun.
Dr Rod’s Odd Blog (almondemotion) 
So sorry about the allergy but it set the neurons firing along a
supa-highhway so that the feeling comes through with such impact and clarity.
‘Marionette Tarantella ‘ now a favourite phrase – recently programme on Angela Carter had some good puppet theatre backgrounds. At least no ‘ fleas that tease in the high Pyrenees ‘!
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