The Bad Thing

The bad thing is here

Crawling on its tiny night feet

Slipping in through the mouth’s opening

Sliding down the unsuspecting gullet

Into the belly’s soft tissue.

It has no interest in negotiation

Nor even of your surrender

For both will involve talk, words

And could result in identification,

Imprisonment even.

But the bad thing is unnamed

And wishes to remain so.

To give in and grant it the flow of tears

Will do nothing to ameliorate

For what are tears but salt and water

And the bad thing already owns the ocean.

So it’s here and you are its battleground

Never to know why you were chosen.

Resistance is hopeless, the invasion’s complete,

Your mind colonised.

So in one last desperate attempt

You make it your friend

Having misheard advice

That familiarity breeds content.


AC 27/3/16

© Alan Combes, 2019. All Rights Reserved

Alan Combes