Ditched in The Netherlands,
led by my nether regions,
into a bargain for my soul;
easy enough as mine doesn't exist
at least not in this version of my consciousness.
In this version I ceased to exist in any recognisable sense,
And gave up on this husk of a body.
And then I awoke.
Six months recovery,
Much ridicule and long slumbers.
I was ill then, I'm ill now,
though at least wise to the worst lies of all;
the ones I told myself.
With no illusions I march to my own drum.
Utrecht was much better second time around,
from 1990-2016 is many dead politicians later.
At least the traceries of the past no longer haunt,
In this version of the future.