Black Dog v Tulip Dance

sleep eludes me.
Last night’s sleep was angry.
I was shouting, shouting at the Black Dog;
shouting at the Black Dog for making up lies.
In the morning, I saw that the canine teeth were just
the yellow, brown-stained fangs of an unbrushed-tyrannical
humanoid. A man not a man; an invention, programmed to cling on
to power. A shape of a man, with a hollow interior, clutching onto a cliff-edge,
unquestioningly functioning; motor ongoing and fuelled up by deeds of destruction.

Today, the Black Dog whimpers in the background, as I conjure up my favourite colours,
red and purple, and splash great splodges of my imagination onto the fields of a dreary winter,
creating bedspreads of tulips that reach up to incandescent skies. Levitating tulips loud-laughing;
roots dangling, jigging, twizzling and fizzing. Frivolity, freedom, fun – detangling my knotted brain.

I dare-devil dance on with the tulip party;
keeping the Black Dog on a leash.
Sleep eludes me.
For now.


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, February 2019

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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