Loneliness and playing the game. What if I want out?
I'm sorry I didn't ask you how you were As we tumbled down the stairs Like soldiers in formation I'm sorry for not tapping on your shoulder And saying howdy how's it going Instead of staying silent Humming like a torch's bulb. You see my hair was sticking to my cheeks Stuck something silly like… Continue reading Minor occasions
The journey has come to a screeching halt From pedal to floor I heard its thunderous roar As it stopped dead in its tracks. Panic ensued Anxiety came Asking myself "what is this game?" Because we've started shuffling cards, dealing hands And I'm no longer chugging along sands Of limp, moth-eaten metal No carriage to… Continue reading When you realise he’s maybe just not that into you and everything slows to a snail’s pace and you start tearing your hair out and balling your eyes out.
The week after, I've been left with flaming wreckage. A plane engulfed by biting fire and yapping sparks has been laid at the foot of my bed like a weak old party balloon. "Is this what courting is?" I find myself saying. Sounding strangely like a grandmother with clotted cream hair and purple eyelids. Is… Continue reading The week after
I had lengthy midnight cyber kisses with a boy who looks like Jim Morrison. The conversation grew on feeble, fecund words about sports and television. We reeled off quotes like a game of table tennis and peculiar deep self talk. You asked me to describe myself as if I were in an interview. And after… Continue reading It takes a great deal out of me
We swigged And I suffered through a glass of tepid, flat prosecco (Complimentary so failure to chug was not an option) Then the glass turned bottle-shaped And bubbles pierced my lips and throat And I'm pretty sure my teeth groaned after being sugar-slapped. After three glasses each (or two?) the bottle was empty Like an… Continue reading Hangovers
We've simply swapped newspapers for phones. Eye contact was never there. It never had (or has) a place on whirring locomotives filled with desperate commuters trying not to fall into a piping hot well of small talk and inane conversations. Shuffling feet, iPlayer booming, podcasts streaming, face blushing from the sticky air of the 9-to-5… Continue reading Commuter daze
Pandemonium at Waterloo At quarter to six. Desperate, jumping commuters Juggling briefcases, contents akimbo Scurry like mice to the platform's edge. Scuttling, weak-kneed pensioners are thrown into a gruelling moshpit Seats are treasures For the fast and furious Who tread on toes and elbow ribs and shove handbags Muffled sorrys Echo in a room filled… Continue reading Rush hour ramblings