The box of Ferrero vanished
quicker than I hid the empty bottles.
Fridge-chilled pizza leftovers
put a foot on shame’s throttle.
Nothing some stretching can’t fix,
I think and put Naga on mute.
Yoga With Adriene helps the virtue
and her dog Benji’s really cute.
Now i’m standing on the balcony
judging minglers on the street.
Johnson (no friendly first names here)
said to keep apart, inside for weeks.
Judgy shade and sofa tutting
fills one minute and in the next
I’m in Londis stockpiling
on custard creams and Tippex.
Back before my 4k widescreen
I’m calling Cobra updates bull
ranting concern for the poorest
whilst sulking that I’m full.
It’s a time of selfish thinking,
perspective, angst and solitude.
Tangled news feeds grip us
to thoughts so shrewd or crude.