Jerk

For nearly three minutes he listened to the headache
Felt hair growth each second sudden swells
White light hits the wall reflections
Too many ways to skin a cat
From inner forward in the free the corrupt
A constant shudder
Storm in the forehead in the tea cup
Through any day’s token like that
Quiet sight fits the fall rejections
Smelt rare gross peach beckon’d sodden smells
Fort leafy tree limits reglistened through the red gate.

Timed without fixity he searches to name his condition
In its intimacy in its change
The environment and its appearance
He takes the choice made by too many others
Conceptual in the loose tube buckling
A constant rudder
Much fuss about so much less
To signify the condition
Non-interference accepts the decision of knowledge
Sex in the decompression chamber
Barely three minutes before switch off.