Saturday 7 July 2012

TIRED AND COKE STUNTED


no idea wot
to do
in the
posh dinner room/nice wine
is
left in the
big glasses/warm still tempting
still as mill ponds of blood

theres coke baubles
by the
rubber
placemats/tiny marbles discarded
invisible in the hurry and blur

i
stand hearing TV fade in and out
& buses hum and rattle
too tall and orange inside
& men in the street talk drunk too loud -
i stand
in the
dinner room
of lined wood and antique tile
i
once watched scrub up clean

sit in the
bay window now-
rain drips hectic and
wind blown
out of
the broken busted gutter/look like bombs and tv static snow

cars sound off like fog boats
behind a leafy
wall of wood squares
bought
summers ago and hammered up with beers

patio is slick
like
when we
hosed the birdshit off
for
a party
that boiled itself
into my memory/there was a month long buzz
of blind flying optimism
(SHHH!)
because it crashed . . .

flowers
nod agreeing with the rain
in
the brown boxes
on the
window sill of chipped paint and forgotten full ashtray
of
spliff ends brown and dirty white
&
i
think
maybe
i’ll burn out soon -
torn like tissue and fragile as dozer plastic
a paper ribbon
after
a kids party/down by the skirting board
with the cake crumbs -
burn out
my
meek hungry blood nose
bitten
calmly and compassionately abandoned

i sit in bay windows all over town
alone
under
one hundred planes a hand span apart

no idea wot to do
but line this pad with late scribbles
like curled spiders legs
& i allow
loose dreaming
to beg
my tears of epic self pity
out
to tickle slow as cows
down my numb cheeks

drugs
and my Efforts
fly epic
for
me
in dark evening dreams of skies of embankment trains
& my wet coat dried in
4 seconds
underground
at Bank
when i was Motivated Trying and
marching
blindly
towards poorly hidden laughter and clear directions home
 
i was
moving then-
MOVING
thru the city then/to a girls flat

i’m static now
and
don’t know
which nothing to do

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