last night he broke both his kneecaps

with the wristwatch-alarm he’d strapped to his head.

then he strangled both his eyes

with the cord that gave his virtual-self life.

this morning he dipped them,

dangling from his face,

into the puddle of a bleeding-out ink cartridge

and rolled them across a used piece of lined paper.

in the bath he swallowed the showerhead

in the hope that it might hydrate him

and put the toothpaste in his ears

so he could listen without the need to lip-read.

then he went fishing,

at a public swimming pool without water

and got chlorine-shock

because he forgot to wear sun cream.

that afternoon the oven had a breakdown

because he hadn’t paid the bills.

so he microwaved his feet instead.

Martha said they’d gone cold.

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©2019 Danny Adams