Jaques and Jill went up the hill

No one cares what you think. 

Freudian analysis is the multi-storey 

carpark of the human as mind. 

We approach the child’s fort 

where we hold the figures 

ready for battle as if we know the truth. 

I want to cry because I feel 

there is no victory 

because victory is failure 

or rather submission. 

Are you following this outline? 

This sketch? Death 

ah yes congratulations 

you spotted it up ahead. 

Here is the Kantian hearse 

drawn by the feather-headed 

black horses the glass glinting in the sun. 

Here is the Lord of the flies 

swallowing old ladies 

who cannot shine his silver up to standard. 

Here too is Plato spinning his way 

back to his correct position. 

Here is Zizek brum brumming his cars 

down the ramps of a wooden multi-storey carpark 

the glossy smell of the paint still lingering 

years after his uncle built it for him. 

I want to cry. Cry cry cry. 

Or was it weep? What’s the difference?