I have no house no home
No place to call my own
And this is for a reason.

I swim against the tide
The seas awash with stuff
Shops groaning under weight

Of kettles and glasses
Pictures and chairs
Lapping against the shores.

Once it was the sirens
Now it's the shops
Luring us on to death

Two suitcases and a bag
Some kitchen tools, a glass for wine
Are all I have or want.

I'm in the shooting gallery -
The ducks are being felled
Left right and center.

Doctors smile understandingly
As sphincters drop their guard
The more the world turns

Just life my friend
A good life, well lived
I heard the moment whisper.