Awkward again,
only two people friends in the crowd, so
phone out again…

& if you listen a little too much just now;

the sounds burst free & blend together,
then splinter into circus images,

a series of moving shapes
mutating through malleable fluid,

forming warm silhouettes that sway
& swing beneath the false-warm sodium heather
of city-night plains that stretch out forever but
never reach the permanence horizon.

Filled with all the ugliness of
a failed lover demanding perfection
from moments of small prettiness,
we each play in the spectacle,


I think maybe I could be
overthinking this a little bit.

back from the bar; one hand gives a bottle
as two jaws move up & down & although I know that
speaking is being attempted, still the strange
is in their mouths as well

but then,
as always:
the change comes, colour
returns, the walls
retreat & the sound begins

to make sense again.


“That’s how we deal with boys like me”*

I no longer see why I should try not to relent

when the instinct kicks in:

fight or flight isn’t really a choice for boys like me


but anyway,

go ahead & tell me about the problems

that weigh you down;

tell me about the rivals

who know the sweet taste of your mouth,

the rivals

that share the secret of your insides…


Without you,

I can’t see why I should try not to think about

the old city, about that lost life

all the time;


like a bride deprived of sensation & sight

after the bitter disappointment of just another dismal,

cliche wedding night,

through the senseless everything

I run,





a bathetic, self-inflicted

fuck up;


I want oblivion


& to forget everything,


except that promise we made

in a dream I think I once had


*Despite What You’ve Been Told – Two Gallants