bad news

a raccoon knocks on my door
am i surprised?
with cyan boots
and a 
yellow mushroom on its head
donned like a flower

a frog on its shoulder
the long tongue is uncanny
thrusting the news at me
so rude

there is a sharp pain
my eye bleeds

i submit to it 
anger imparts
leaving foul footprints
mouldy feathers

the news
is salty 
or are those tears that i taste
an ocean to swallow

the ants march towards me
an army of them
carrying with them:
ivy plants
slugs and snails

they command my feet
‘don’t move’
i am glued to the spot 
time is god
it won’t stop

so

the letters start whizzing in 
from here and there
near and afar
messages of hope and strength 
‘you have been through worse’
‘you can beat this’

some letters are one-liners
‘how are you?’

others scream at me
‘why you?’
‘why now?’
‘stop the stress’

my ears ring
my vision blurs
but my feet don’t move
the ants are powerful
the ivy sticks

and
the snails and slugs
are snug
beneath my feet

i feel like god
but time laughs at me
it is evil
goading
‘i will leave you behind’
‘the race is over’

and i feel discarded
time grins
the god wins

so
the next time you send me a letter
you should ask:
where is the hard liquor 

to drown the straw that
has broken sehar’s back