by Nick Gisburne
I never thought I’d need another brain,
But this one isn’t faulty yet, it’s full.
The second that you speak, a searing pain
Convinces me to swaddle it in wool.
I mustn’t let more information in.
Diminish your cacophony, I beg.
In time, in splendid silence, I’ll begin
To syphon this extraordinary egg.
You’d help if you were many miles away.
I wouldn’t want you watching if it burst.
The science is unshakable. I pray
You’ll never see the symptoms at their worst.
Migrate, as far as possible. Fly south.
Whatever way you do it, shut your mouth.
