infusing my space with brilliance
but it is untoward. Soothed by
the trilling rune of my designated space -
so lack luster now and passé -
I digress from pursuits suited
for what I am. Driven to drink
I abhor everything nearby.
O'Hara in his infinite wisdom
or minuscule awareness ran circles
about his lunch, naked
and filled with junk chasing
an eastern bourne dragon.
He was no detective ensconced in paper
and unfettered by the chains of plans
and fiduciary gains. He was a mouth
on the abdomen of a fly shirking
it's fly-ly duties - shot eater, braggart
addict. Sherlock Holmes, his predecessor,
was more lucid than Frank looking
at the food on the end of his latest work.
Forked by hunger and the drive to sleep
Frank would never find revelation
surrounded completely by four half walls.