John Tottenham

Queasiness, apathy and doom
spread over the sweetness… fear
of the stagnation and sorrow
that will have to seep out, fresh
from the source, all that death,
dirt and hurt: better for it to be absorbed
than apprehended, but who could withstand
such a force? A rallying call to weakness,
better leave it hanging. But dread is soon replaced
by regret, indifference by longing.