‘Talking Without Speaking’

I can
feel it
coming
on

That
darkness,
my old
friend

I’ve not
got out
of bed
in days

And
don’t
know if
I will
again

Another Repeat Prescription

If
all
your
pills

Don’t
cure
my
ills

Then
why
bother
to
collect
them

If
it’s
a waste
of time

Both
yours
and
mine

Then
perhaps
I should
reject
them

I’m
glad
you
find
it
helpful

But I
certainly
do not

What’s
the
point
in
telling
tales

When
you’ve
already
lost
the
plot?