journal for new poetry
Simon Alderwick
the king of the underworld
suffers hayfever
rage of road & of pavement
can’t cope with internet banking
& has strong feelings against believers
of infinite life
he often thinks about his lot in life
how time is not on his side
he sank his inheritance
into a scheme he barely understands
it makes him nervous
sometimes
when he’s crushing a skull in his grip
he feels like an imposter
sometimes he shouts at his wife
sometimes he shouts at his kids
it seems an eternity
he’s been waiting
for the fires of hell to rain on earth
but if he closes his eyes he swears
he can smell the burning human flesh
he’s waiting for his therapist
she’s overran again
if he could only
assert himself
on earth as down below
every week she reminds him
he’s not yet
become king of the underworld
every week she makes him question
if he ever will