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Writer's pictureRonnie Hill

Blood Sugar MMOL Rat

A Blue lady bird on its back

The balding boys broody moodiness


Thickened like the skim of stewed tea


A disk pinned to my arm sends a sequence

The Blood sugar mmol rat

Sat in a sad sack pond to ponder my plug in the wall


Glucose glue sticks to the underarm

collecting dirt in crop circle remnants.

Grey fluff and a pinkish torn pigment


beads run raw to a tug of war,

floods soaked by polyester bedding and the memory foam pillow puddle


The hands hang sore for a Margery daw

Red raw rushes of adrenaline fill me

and palpitations flutter pump the blunderbuss


how much trust is just before thrown under the bus.


Filtered brown sugar and syrup bubble in the belly button horizon

as I binge in bespin

A stab in my gut pacifies the tide

The rollercoaster ride



Deposits of juice spurt in my throat

Cock back shoot

like a cock pissing pistol whipping

Ease of taste to waste my crusts

So I leave the corners and scrape my gums in a rush


Gripping to the lone gravy boat float


Revealing my rubber ring to stick it

& stab it like the woke blokes stick n poke


The Strips of toast to dip in yolk

and bacon fat down the throat

To the constant drone from my remote

Its a joke

Got the envelope to smoke my dope and an Everlasting shiverings missing me…


kissing feet


Born into starch since the start

the 5 pound milkshake graveyards a laugh

So I wear a sleeve on my heart

And keep an eye on my bar chart


It burns


The aftermath of lard sheds a tear for levothyroxine and Levimir


Full of beans and sertraline

And anti bac to keep me clean

A Routine fiends dream


Land mass of cola bottles and epipens in a yellow stabs bin

My imprinted mattress swallows me whole

Leaving me with a Relief of grief -

but I swim in it


sound dampened like the squashed ham sandwich

Pickpocket locked in a stomp box on the block

takeaway the takeaways for fucks sake


9 units and counting

Down my days


In my carbohydraton station haven

Waiting between 4 & 8.


Goosebump lumps cover my shrine

In a hive mind grind


The red brick flat reminder

And a cobwebbed hoarded corner


It Welcomes a slaughter to the hieenas den

So I’m sat in the corner and use my pen

And choose to loose initiative



harder than it seems

The daydream of days finds ways to speak

In shapes that most don’t see

So I’ll take my cake

And make my way

Find me lost at sea


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