You’d spit in my beer if you could
but not whilst I’m up here
looking down on you
from behind this thin mic stand
that I hide behind
…/
I am your blown out wish – rich
with birthday spit
I inflate wanted lists and
your every year –
every anniversary – craving
for gifts
I hope you like it…. /
Let us compare
our old notes
regarding ruination
…/
I am a slugged sum of rum and Coke
(Zero)
without any fixes – no bookings
…/
Play a required symphony
by a long-dead composer
in a suddenly quiet moment
during your commuted time
Then – perhaps – then scroll
to old depressing stuff
…/
My unpaired bookend
An unescorted
thought-prop
found not wanting
…/
This is my digging hand
at those exhausted seams
turned dust to dust
in my late soundless hour
…/
Half a waking aspirin
now taken down
and half a headache –
again – left to take –
but screw her –
with regret …/
My medication-taking
app’s notification rattles
as if shattered bones
pummeled in a bag
…/