I Can / I Cannot

I can forever buy token things,

But I cannot answer my phone if it rings.

I can try to plug the cavernous gap,

But I cannot avoid that same old trap.

I can seek out frames for your daft wee photos,

But I cannot keep all of your old clothes.

I can find different ways to while away the hours,

But I cannot keep watering those dead flowers.

I can pray today will be warm and sunny,

But I cannot walk around and pretend to be funny.

I can look for answers in the cold grey sky,

But I cannot continue to painfully cry.

I can avoid scenes of actual violence,

But I cannot ensure my wilful silence.

I can try with all I have to get myself through,

But I cannot ever stop myself from loving you.

Fate

I wish I’d never met you.

Life would be easier then.

If I’d never met you I’d never have to forget you.

And I would be happier then.

Random #9

What I wouldn’t give to be creative
and be able to express it.

What I wouldn’t give
isn’t worth knowing about.

Sex & Drugs & Dance Music

‘Undo your trousers and get your cock out now’ she cried.

I knew she would be unimpressed with what she saw. It wasn’t the fact I was fucked from the seven hours of non-stop dancing, or that I felt physically ill from the dodgy burger I’d eaten at Stav’s van outside the club. I knew full well that my inability to get a hard on was due to the six wraps of amphetamine that I had hoovered up my nose throughout the night.

‘Come on, she pleaded. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make me come all night long’. She had always been a pretty straight forward kind of girl. Or at least she had been since I’d known her. I’d met her in the club about four hours earlier. She was coming out of the toilets as I was heading in to fill up my water bottle. She said she liked my blue mascara and matching hair. I said I liked her devil horns and big tits. But those 36D’s were doing nothing for me now.

I felt the crotch of my faux snakeskin trousers. Nothing. Her eyes eagerly followed the direction of my hand. She wouldn’t be pleased. My usually ample sized dick was letting me down. I tried to change the subject.

‘I’ll put some tunes on’ I croaked as I fumbled about on the floor. I found a CD – Carl Cox Non Stop. For fucks sake. Must everything remind me of my dick? I angrily pushed the disk into the stereo.

‘I fancy you’ she purred. How the fuck was I going to pull this one off? Here was a smouldering sex kitten writhing around on my bed, gagging for it, and my bollocks had shrivelled to the size of a grape. I suppose it’s not their fault, I mused. Give me a choice between a shag and six wraps of pure base and I’ll go for the powder every time. It’s only when you have Uma Thurman on your bed that you wish you could say no.

Maybe I could try and satisfy her in another way, I wondered. That way if my sleeping policeman ever decides to wake up then it’ll be fine: I can shag her all night long. If he decides to sleep in, however, then maybe she’ll be content with other parts of my anatomy instead and fall asleep.

‘Well, if you won’t come to me then I’ll just have to come to you’ she teased, playfully. She stood up from the bed and moved over towards me, undoing the strings of her corset as she walked. Her eyes locked on mine. I would hate to be a disappointment to her but, as yet, there was no stirring in my nether regions. Her leather bodice fell to the floor, shortly followed by her crushed velvet hot pants. Fuck me, she was beautiful. She had a body to die for with a sexual appetite to match. Every man’s wet dream. I so wished I’d met her when I wasn’t off my face.

‘Interested?’ she seductively inquired. How ironic I thought. As I studied her ample chest, the old snakeskins felt a little tighter at the zip. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe my sleeping policeman’s alarm clock had finally gone off. I sent down another tentative hand to the area in question. Thank fuck. My bollocks had returned to their normal size and my dick was getting ready to greet Uma with a smile.

‘I’m interested if you are’ I beamed. And she was. My snakeskins and ‘FUCKED’ t-shirt were soon on the floor. They and the devil horns made a cracking looking pair.


‘I’ll be off then. Thanks for a great night!’

It wasn’t actually the sound of her voice that woke me up that afternoon, but the sound of the heels on her knee length boots clicking along the hallway floor. Through the haze of a banging headache and a raging thirst I watched them disappear as the front door slammed shut.

Although I felt like utter shit I smiled proudly to myself. She thought last night was ‘great’. For once, it seemed, I had managed to fight the side effects of the chemicals I had consumed and have a decent shag after a good nights whizzing. I settled back into bed and prepared for the inevitable come down that was already winging its way to me in the post.

My mobile began to vibrate on the bedside table. The noise felt like someone drilling holes into my head. I answered it, just to stop it hurting.

‘Hello?’

‘Fuck me, you are alive then!’ came an excited voice. ‘Man, I thought you’d be out of it considering how well you got on with our friend Billy last night. Fucking good night though, eh? Bouncing club that. But what about that bird with the devil horns and the big tits that you were talking to outside the toilets? Must have hurt when she called you a sexist prick and slapped your face before walking off with her pals…’

It was then I realised. It’s like the geezer from Manchester growls in that song:

‘All your dreams are made, when you’re chained to the mirror and the razor blade…’

Practice

Try as I may
as much as I would love to

I just cannot dance
to the beat of your drum

I'm always out of time

 

The Bakery Aisle

You’re in the supermarket on a cold winters day.

You’re minding your own business, pushing your trolley and checking items off your list when your nose twitches at the smell of freshly baked bread. Tempted, you wander over to the bakery.

Your stomach grumbles as you peruse the counter. Your eyes widen as they drink in the glorious delights on offer. Loaves, rolls, buns, cakes, pastries, biscuits, tarts: each as tantalising as the next. After much internal deliberation you finally decide which one to buy.

A chocolate eclair.

You signal your selection to the assistant who hands you your prize in a cardboard box, neatly tied with ribbon. You carefully place the box at the far end of your trolley, safely stowing it away from heavier household goods that might roll around and crush it.

You finish the rest of your shopping a little quicker now, somehow lighter of step, and stride with purpose to the checkout.

You hastily pack and pick up your shopping bags but you grip the box tightly in your hand, carrying it safely all the way out to your car.

You drive along with the box calling to you, provocatively, on the passenger seat. You glance over every few minutes, stretching out a protective hand and smiling an anticipatory smile.

You get home and unpack your shopping whilst waiting, impatiently, for the kettle to boil. The box consumes your thoughts as you drum your fingers; your excitement building.

You sit down in your favourite chair and make yourself comfortable. You tenderly untie the ribbon and lift the lid of the box. You lick your lips as your heart quickens and you finally take a bite of the glistening chocolate eclair.

You begin to realise, as you chew, that it doesn’t taste as good as you thought it would.

The cream is artificial and bland. The pastry is soggy and sticks to your cheeks. The chocolate is saccharine and hurts your teeth.

Disappointed, you put the remaining piece of the chocolate eclair back into the box, close the lid and re-tie the ribbon.

And that’s what love feels like.

Being lured in by the chocolate eclair when, all along, you really should have picked the strawberry tart.

 

Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days

It is unbelievable to think that trip 
was three hundred and sixty five days ago.

Just one anonymous face in a sea of many.
My twenty three year old dream realised.

Outstanding.

There was no way to know then where I would be now.
Here, three hundred and sixty five days on, alone.

I would trade every second of that trip,
to have just one more minute,
with you.

xxx

 

Out of Space

It's like I'm an alien.

Cast adrift on the wrong planet,
slowly waving cheerio to the spacecraft as it departs.

'Please, don't leave me behind...'

 

‘First Dates’

She awoke that morning to the sound of the bells. Those fucking incessant church bells that plagued her every Sunday morning. She opened one eye to the world and, as the daylight scorched her alcohol soaked retina, she quickly closed it again. Fucking tequila, she murmured. Never again. Yeah, right.

Then she remembered. Shit. She tentatively slid her hand across the mattress. She felt his presence before she heard his snore. Fucking tequila, she murmured again. Bollocks.

She took a deep breath and forced both of her eyes open to absorb the piercing light this time. The bells had stopped thank fuck. One less thing to deal with.

She sat up, carefully, and embraced the world. She wasn’t ready to wake the man whose name she had forgotten – or in truth had never known – just yet.

She crawled, with great difficulty, from the bed. Every bone feeling like a dead weight, she managed to pull last nights shirt over her head and stumble to the kitchen.

She took a glass from the draining board and filled it with ice cold water from the stainless steel tap. She revelled in the smooth taste cleansing her mouth, her throat and her head. She glugged down four paracetamol and proceeded to the bathroom to wash the lingering taste of the man from her mouth.

She looked at herself in the mirror. I look like I feel, she thought, and I feel like shit. Still, first things first. She needed to get this fucker out. Composing herself and her aching limbs she strode into the bedroom; clapping her hands loudly as she stepped.

‘Rise and shine sleeping beauty’ she croaked. ‘Time to go’. The mound of stale sweat, alcohol and drool lay motionless under the duvet. ‘I said come on motherfucker – move’. She shouted louder this time pairing her cry with a swift kick to what she hoped was his kidney area. The man whimpered as he rolled over on to his front.

‘Just come back to bed, babe’ he muttered sleepily.

‘Babe? Are you fucking shitting me mate? Just get the fuck out of my bed!’ She was shaking him now as he heaved himself upright. Dazed and confused he looked into her eyes, realisation slowly dawning that if he wanted to keep his testicles intact he’d better not argue. He hurriedly dressed as she shooed him out of the bedroom and pushed him out of the flat – the front door knocking him over as he pulled on his boots.

‘Well, thanks for that and everything. But I won’t be calling you again’ she snipped.

‘But, I..’ was all she heard before she slammed the door in his puzzled, but albeit pretty cute, face.

She stalked back to bed, vowing never to drink tequila again.
Yeah, right.

‘My Dear’

You, my dear, are a cunt.

I'll maybe never have the courage to tell you to your face. 
But that doesn't make it any less true.

I will never forget what you have done to me.
I will certainly never forgive you.

Your words - like daggers.
Your tears - like acid.
Your heart - like stone.

They mean nothing to me.
You mean nothing to me.

For you, my dear, are a cunt.

Fact.

 

First Day Back

Dishwashers rattle
Kettles bubble
Doors bang
Toilets drip
Heaters blast
Floorboards creak
Keys jangle
Voices whisper
Switches flick
Mouths yawn
Arms stretch
Feet shuffle
Computers hum
Mouse wheels tick
Photocopiers whirr
Printers churn
Keyboards click
Phones trill
Mobiles buzz
Pens scratch
Papers rustle

My Heart Breaks

2am

I am broken
I am hurt
Words unspoken
Emotion curt

I am sad
I am wrong
Mind mad
Tears throng

I am tired
I am lonely
Memories mired
Despair only

I am weak
I am frail
Burning cheek
Limbs fail

I am down
I am done
Brows frown
Love gone

The First

It's deeply distressing when you realise those close to you 
don't know you at all.

I mean I understand.
I put up walls.
Thick granite walls.
Very few people have the strength to break them down.

I'll never trust anyone ever again.
I'll never trust myself ever again.

Delete.