The kettle boils water to a crisp

there are orang-utans in the bath again 

the orchids have eaten the cockroaches

a deejay announces the end of all war

                   consider the compostability of things

the oranges in the fridge are dying the slowest death

adultery remains a distant fantasy

no one votes for the opposition

the toilet does everything it is told to do

                    wake up to the highest possible grade of birdsong

a fifth of the cutlery has been used just once

none of the doors can be locked

the smell of rain has seeped into the sugar

each room cultivates its particular version of truth

                   where there was silence there is now more