Life, in HD

On first name terms

With a small horse named Bonnie

By the park

She comes when I rattle the fence

Black with a white racing stripe

Hair anklets

And ilvaite eyes

She doesn’t seem to mind

The flies

Drawn to her pretty face

I feed her reduced carrots from Sainsbury’s

(20 pence)

I want to tell Bonnie, that recently, I’ve been questioning whether some of my memories actually came from reality

Or have bled into me

Through weird wires and dreams

Or intravenous icicles

Inception spears in the meat sphere

Basically

Been struggling to separate time and space, like church and state

Multiple mistakes exacerbate my tendency to conflate what’s real and what ain’t

A state

But she don’t wanna hear all that jazz

She just wants what’s in the bag

(So pop the plastic)

To be honest, I’m glad

It’s a waste of air being sad

Long live Bonnie

She’s the best

(Gon’ be aight, gon’ be aight)

X.