Ideal Man

Here he is, the ideal man. Continue reading

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I’m Only Dancing

We’re dancing in time, we’re dancing tonight. She holds onto my hands, I hold onto her sight. The room is small, the drunks are tall, and we’re in the middle of it all. Fairy Lights paint the mood, and the jazz is smooth, and if this is jazz, I like it, someone says.

I run to the bar and ask for a small coke. The bar girl is lost in thought, thinking about how people called Barbara were once young. She snaps out of it after I say small coke for the fifth time, for the final rhyme. Excuse me? she asks. A small what? She wonders aloud. Continue reading

3 Months

In 3 seconds he blinked

In 3 minutes he yawns

In 3 hours he realises he’s been here before

In 3 days he leaves his home

In 3 weeks he finds his phone

In 3 months he loses it all

In 3 years he finds a new job

In 3 decades he lives for his dreams

In 3 centuries he is referred to as ‘the general public’

In 3 millennia no one knows

Clutter

I miss tripping over all those clothes piles

I miss untangled that mess of wires

I miss moving the plastic container boxes to get to my books

I miss holding my body against the door to keep it open

I miss climbing over a body to get to the shower

All that clutter, I miss it so.

Blocked Unblocked

Over time, but not too much time, I found myself to be blocked. My head was full of wax, it started to coat the brain. My nose was stuffed with a full roll of tissue, you could pull it out like magic cloths. My mouth, packed with debris. I breathed and ate through a hole in my neck, but even then there was a blockage of syrup to contend with. It spurted out like blood in a zombie flick, and you could spread it on toast.

Then there was my stomach hanging in a web of bubblegum, and the intestines could barely contain all the gravel I swallowed on my travels. My heart pumped against a layer of Lego bricks.  I was clogged up, blocked up, fucked up, funked up, gunked up. Continue reading