The white walls crumbling
a single fly remains
watching it all fall to pieces
the left hand busy with a
drink of sweetened herbs
the right one idly grasping a
can of lager
the fly unmoved
as the life energy withered
departing solely
annoyed by all his
dithering
I would write you a song
sing it in tune
the Sunday morning
stroll along the
Brighton peer
would last longer than
the takeaway soya latte
we always shared
But the fire faded
drowned by white water
rivers and tears
now only the memories
remain
Seen and not heard – a strange statement indeed.
Seen BUT not heard I would declare
That rings true to me and
the predicament I am in
I brought seniority and expertise
They wanted miracles
I did my bit
My candle lit at
Both ends
The midnight oil in no
short supply
I raised concerns in
A plethora of fora
With no response received
The extra mile I went
I cared most vigoursly
about results and thus
I turned my back
they had their chance
but alas
I quit
I am dead and
gone
So silent the whisper
your eyes fading
as I forced myself in
the shiver
the scratchings
I’d trade any day of
solitude actions for
Your little death
my dear
Dirty deeds done
again
jumping out of an
aeroplane
stark raving
naked
what the fxck was I
thinking
imminent death
awaiting
There is awkwardness
lingering between
chairs and
tripods
There is silence
awakening demons
within
There is nothing
keeping the fire
ablaze
as rumours of our
demise begin
I am king
ruler
my voice is
law
my slaughtering
innocence
your scars
bleed truth
I am king
ruler
my voice is
low
my slaughtering
impervious
to
your dying
thoughts
I claim nothing
no victory
grasping thin air
slippery slopes greeting
tired eyes each morning
I stand
facing you
you smile
I die
the first step is always
the hardest
Drugs help in deciding
the direction
left foot first
or right
needless decisions
needles deciding
the path of resignation
chosen
In the circle of
Light
A box
Vestas
Hugging
The crown jewels
Unpolished
Blemished
Scarred
Resistance is futile
The birds chirp
of death
