Words are not sums
There is no formula
No way of adding
All of this up
To equal
An answer
Just a man
And his cat
And some books
With half digested thoughts
And partly permeated ideas
Underlinings and crossings out
Sections ignored and
Whole passages
Stowed away
For later
There's a bottle
Of wine
Half started
Half finished
And
The final pieces
Of the puzzle
Heavy eyelids
Mountains of toilet paper
An empty sleeping room
Full of slumber
And dreams
Of a different day
And then there is me
And maybe I'm
The narrator
Or the detective
Or the hopeless drunk
Maybe I'm
Omnipotent
Maybe I'm not there
At all
Maybe I never was
Or never will be
And maybe
The cat
Has all the answers
If only
She could learn
To talk
More clearly
Than she does
Or maybe it's
Us that mumble
Because the sounds
We were given
The language we were
Taught
Were always
Nonsense
And she just learnt
That more quickly
Than her biped
Counterparts
And whilst sleeping
Taught them
How to think
Or at the very least
Feed her when she was
Hungry
So at least they
Felt better
In
The morning