One Notch Less

Where is my floor,

For I know not at present

Of anywhere to set my foot.

There are too many

Things afoot already.

I no longer have position

Or a place, so,

Unidentified I dangle.

Neither am I served,

By this poverty of the soul.

And certainly not by body or mind.

For I have made for myself, no name

By order of which to have modled

My way in this world

That I would be recognised.

Instead as a singularity of less

Than humanity affords value to.

One hundred senses less.

No Dollar again today

For the forthwith dim wit,

Drained and bedraggled Kit.

So, Christopher will not be home

And why?


He is being sluesed out of society.

Obscure, unfortunate,

And never to be noticed.

One notch less in the case book.

(c) 2018 Christopher Thompson.

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