Resolute with a sense of optimism
I throw you binwards
(I don’t need you anymore
I never needed you
I just wanted you
And now I don’t).
My lungs sing protest songs as
I pound the floor with pure will power.
In my running shoes,
Recently redundant but now required,
I am a messenger from Marathon,
I am Haille Gabriel Salassi,
I am The Duracell bunny.
On the phone, despite trying to relax myself,
My girlfriend questions how good our romantic weekend will be
If she continues to smoke and I continue to behave,
kind of
sort of
not on purpose
of course,
manically.
In the night
In the pub
Drunken resolve holds out
Through teeth gritted with conversations
and despite my fake smile
when the fun and my friends “pop outside for a while”.
After all this stress, mess and messy stress,
why on earth do I still desire
Some rolled up cancer set on fire?
No comments:
Post a Comment