Sitting, listening to the background
Gargling of the lone refrigerator
Hunched in the corner, like some old
Guy who’s being doing crack for too long.
Years past, never yet found
Anyone close to what I am
Looking for. This damn fridge
Means just as much. Belong…
Don’t know the meaning of it
Anymore. Solipsist. Ah there’s
A word to recognise. Flickering
Backdrop of a small television
Recounts lives, half naked images flit
Of blonde bints galavanting around with
Some inane half witted excuse for a man,
Putting our world to shame. “Oh what a vision”
Some fat prick will say. Pah!
Well at least they are doing less
Harm than bombs going off
Left, right and centre. A
Gaza shaped piece of pizza
Sits at my left, flies spit and
Vomit all over the surface. I wave
Them off, but a single hand can
Do nothing more than a single voice.
Though standing together
Sometimes isn’t so easy. Hand in
Hand – Bullshit. We have a choice,
Are we really capable of such
A simple action? Always cutting
Ourselves off from each other,
Emotion wasted. A steel band
Marches through love and care
Waving it’s capitalist flag, stamping
It’s iron clad boots. Sighs are all that
Seem to protrude my mouth now.
“Love is a smoke made from the
Fume of sighs”, No my dear ‘Uncle’
William, it’s not. Life is not fair.
Certainly not fair enough to show
Me oxygen filled love. The only fume
I can taste is that of my last cigarette,
Curling at the end – ashes dropping
Onto my vacant lap. Everything is
Empty now – Empty lap. Empty perfume
Spilling onto empty chests. Later rubbing
Onto empty sheets – First full of passion,
Now contain only sweat and piss.