I’m just trying to keep afloat today.
There is a reason why the number twelve
is at the top of the clock face.
It’s because each hour is an aspiration,
every day completion an accomplishment.
but this is
mouth-numbingly painful
Category: Poetry
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12
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Adulthood
Remember when you were a kid and
you thought working for a living was fun?
Sitting behind your travel agency and
putting plastic coins in your till, acting like
a tiny adult in your plastic world with your
plastic kitchen oven and washing machine,
teaching your dolls their ABCs, putting
plastic food in your plastic shopping basket,
pretending to eat with your plastic cutlery,
because it was interesting and new.
But adulthood is repetition. Adulthood is
buying toilet roll and running out of toilet roll
and going food shopping and washing up
and deciding and eating and commuting
and buying toilet roll and running out of toilet roll
and sitting and paying and waiting for the weekend
and shopping and making appointments and
washing clothes and cleaning and remembering
appointments and running out of toilet roll
and making packed lunches and buying toilet roll
and running out of toilet roll.
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be with me
I wrote a poem for you and then
looked up at the ceiling. I don’t
know why, because there’s
nobody there, or so I told myself,
but now, now I feel something
like eyes on me through a two-way
mirror or the haziness of an
early morning reverie.
I don’t know if you are or not, but
be with me,
be with me. -
once upon a day
I wish they hadn’t given you
a front row seat to your own
private horror show.
I wish you could have stayed and just
watched mine from afar instead
and helped me pick up the pieces after.
You would have been equipped
with just the right broom to sweep
up the room, and then you could have
gone on your way, doing all the things
you had hoped you’d be able to do,
once upon a day. -
the best view
In the dusty haze of dusk
when the sun glistens
and the night listens
for its cue
there you areas the early summer heat
meets defeat
and the pitter-patter drizzle
sizzles on the street
I see youwhen glassy daylight shatters
and all that’s left is midnight matter
your glowing eyes amidst crazed chatter
I have the best view[there you are
I see you
I have the best view] -
Thank you for un-understanding
When you’re struggling with breathing,
it’s time to stop reading –
switch off your brain when
thinking about screening
leads to real life screamingI probably am scared of death
but mainly I am afraid of this body
and that is far more immediate.
What will it do next?But my problems aren’t for you to solve
– but thank you –
just shut up and nod and listenI am glad you can’t understand.
I am glad you haven’t experienced this.
In a way, I don’t want you to “get it”.
Your inability to empathise is just
another thing to be grateful for. -
geography
blue skies reflected in the
whites
of your eyesin darkness the
breeze
of your exhale
echoesthe slowly forming haze
of one too many broken daysI prise your toes apart
to give them each more space –
they creak out of place -
Send Me Snail Mail
Send me snail mail
Because I’m far too impatient.
Give me something worth waiting for,
I crave the excitement.Send me snail mail,
I’m on the edge of my seat.
I’m waiting to be picked up
Or crushed beneath your feet.Send me snail mail,
Any day now will do.
Tell me I’m worth the postage
And your best handwriting, too.Send me snail mail,
I’m waiting by the door
For something to break the monotony,
A letter worth waiting for. -
Back in time
Back in time
to a newer me,
when I was more
of what I chose to beA cleaner slate,
a darker sky
simpler times
a more reachable highA longer lifespan
shorter eyesight
not noticing days pass
living for the nightNow present me
turning up the track
would do anything
for a clear path back. -
Post conversations
I love how the friend I mentioned in the latest post basically answered the poem I had written in my previous post. <3
