Sometimes I feel
Like I'm a silver ball
Strung up
In a Newton's cradle.
I feel the hand of fate
Draw me back.
Feel the rush
As I slice the air,
Eyes clenched in anticipation
For the smash,
A clash, a cascade,
A regular slapping,
Ticking like clockwork,
Working me over,
Like an heavy old bag
Sparring with Ali.
The tension is shuffled
Across the collision
And we tend towards
One another,
Now brothers in 
Exchange, a passing
Of Pressure,
Of deliverance,
Of Impetus.
Until we, resentfully, agree,
Finally,
And shuffle
In unison
The degradation.
A decline into ambivalence
And contrician,
And, eventually,
Sameness.
We follow one another's path
Into the graveyard,
To sleep together
In waste.

Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, was born today in 1755.

George Bernard Shaw, Irish playwright, critic and political activist, died today in 1950.