Staring into That Good Night

So it’s night and I go to smoke
Outside
And see—so many fucking stars
Just hanging up there
Flickering like crazy

(Maybe
Some of them are planes)
Anyway
Here’s the epiphany:
I feel existential fear
Because I’m so tiny

So tiny
I can’t see but a microscopic bit
The whole of it I can’t see
Because of these spiky things
Of roofs
Thrusting upwards into the sky
(Not going gentle into that good
night)

They’re cutting out a miniature piece
For me to see
While the whole of the universe
Is laughing at me
Bastard

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Walls Make Neighbours

There’s a wall between me
And the gritty city street
Just a wall
Of concrete or brick or shit

One and something feet maybe
Separating me
From everything not-home
Not-nice, not-warm, not even

A not too thick wall
Between me and someone
Next to me
Above me
And next door—the post office

That’s not too much
When you think of it
A teeny-tiny willy-nilly wall
Between you and all not-you
And that’s it

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Abstract concrete

So I Got These Ikea Glasses…

Design IKEA
Made in CHINA
What the f*ck?

Well *shrug*
Glass is glass
You drop it
.
It breaks
.
.
Into millions
Of shards . . .

Except, I guess
In CHINA
There’re no unions

The Life I Save May Be My Own

A tiny thing
Crying and cowering
Behind the bins
Is that—

A cat!
A kitten rather
All big-eyed
And terrified

Shh, shh, she said
There, there
You’re good now
She broke

Into a smile

Because the life
She saves may be
Her own

A Miniature Portrait in Pink

Peeling pink polish
On a girl who’s been biting her nails
Again
Because the pain is easier to bear
Then


Disclaimers:

  • I don’t bite my nails
  • I don’t use pink polish
  • I don’t write poems

The Motivational Inscription on My Mug

LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE
What the fuck?
That’s a bit too much to ask,
Right?
Isn’t there an easier task?

Like,
Die or
Lie in bed and
Stare at the wall.

No?
Alright.
If you must.
I certainly can’t.

A Pill a Day

I measure my weeks
In the number of pills
I take to calm down
To continue to exist

Not too many
Not to get a habit
Count them out
Don’t take too much

Although
Should I overdose
Never mind

Too many things
For the little pink pills
To take care of
To make unexist

Black, Red and None

When you dress black
To reflect
The dark matter in your head

When you dress red
To say that
You’re not dead yet

When you don’t dress
At all
Because
Just because

What a Quiet Night Tonight

When it’s so quiet
You think
You should hear yourself breathing
But you hear nothing

Have you gone deaf
Have you died
What’s happening
You’re terrified


Has it ever happened to you that you thought you went deaf because you couldn’t hear any sound around? The house is quite quiet tonight and it doesn’t seem right. I had to double-check that I’m not deaf, that I’m still breathing and that I’m probably still alive. I’m still terrified though for no good reason.

The Noise in the House in the Night

I’m waiting for my bedtime and not really up to anything. So I penned a poem (so-called). I was just listening.


In the middle of the night (but not midnight)
The laptop is humming
The old heater is crackling (but not heating
properly)
The cat isn’t purring (she doesn’t care
she should
for my poem)

A scream in the street
A door banging somewhere
More screaming coming
From seemingly everywhere
(A drunk domestic?)

The toilet flushing
Upstairs
The ancient floor creaking
Above my head

The house is unwell