Post office posts his collage faces
to random names and places.
When he’s not inspired he’s out of sorts
but when he is, he posts all kinds from his multi-faceted fort.
He gets upset cos he can’t tell the difference
between a compliment and an insult
and has mood swings like a child in a playground
as he blames himself cos it’s everyone else’s fault.
Talks to himself loud enough so everyone can hear in his imaginary supermarket
but whispers top secret thoughts to himself in private
and to not give anything away , reserves his right to silence
much to his psychiatrist’s annoyance.
Stands on his bed balcony
with his cuckoo clock
and shouts out the time
every evening at six o’clock
cos doors lock.