PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was obliged to get up early.



Experiencing

a peculiarly human phenomenon

I did not feel particularly

Human.



'I suppose this day is going to be a

                          very long torment!'

    and holding this fatalistic view like a baby

I thought myself very brave!



At Interpoint.

Streaks of Nausea.



THE ATMOSPHERE IS A METRIC TONNE OF WAVES!

I CANT ESCAPE MY EYES! OH MY GOD THE AIR IS FAKE!

I AM SO DANGEROUSLY HUNGRY! BUT THE SANDWICHES ARE FULL OF DEATH!



I stand aghast pinching a roast beef

but the sandwich just seems

empty.

I hide in my arms...



... I awake in the streets seeking solace I

hide in a bookshop I smell the poetry of

yellow pages and strings. I'm broke.

A pretty girl comes in looking bookish and

eyes books, I eye here. I imagine our-romance

of sofas and dust mites and dim lights.

I imagine I approach her saying ,'what are

you looking for?'

I leave the shop empty-handed.



And then I am home, I recline on a sofa

and televisual light freeze-dried euphoria

and I am watching a Princess visit the fat

and she's stroking the bland mother's hair

and the bland mother breaks 'I'M FAT!'

and she doesn't even know why

nor that she cries for the anonymous herds

all of them

pathetic

the princess, heartbroken

unmake-up'd

she cries too

and then I go to sleep.