Off

I am off

I am past my sell by date.

I have not been kept cool although I have been shaken vigorously.

I suspect, if you took the lid off, my insides would be covered in green mould

or maybe blue

or black.

I am off and so is your phone.

I am ringing your phone in the hope that you will skip dive again and save me from a cruel fate at the claws and teeth of urbane foxes.

Urbane foxes making sly remarks at my expense.

Urbane foxes that are better dressed than me and thinner and who look at you in ways I don’t like but can’t stop.

Urbane foxes that inhabit my neurological pathways and tie them up in knots/nots so I go all wrong and start imagining them.

I can’t serve you rancid food

I am sorry.

I am off.

I am off.

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