Micropoetry No.4

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Perhaps I'll only be popular for my sayings
Not inclined to trust my inner folds
Saving stitches of thoughts resplendent?

Drunk
Another 'so-called' ex-footballer
Drunk
Shrunk to hair and clothes
Without skill nor balls
Oh, Beckham lay still
Decline; chill.

The day which never ends
We shall never fight against,
Being with forever,
And seeing every chance
As a real goal; treasured
Enduring.

Today?
Desperate to get away
The consequence of NHS border
And the dull repetition of
Every single news headline.
Flawed socially.

Loathing
Attired in wild conflict
Hoping
Strung out: skin peeled
Back bone reveals
Rotten disposition.
Some Truth pick-me-up.

Short of motivation
Breath is shorter
Feeling confused
Turning inside out
Relentless
It is not working
It must be broken?

Silence is God
The gaps I desire
Feed my love.

My existence is meaning less
Little matters anything here
Walking away
What would that solve?

Masturbation is a temporary relief
Alcohol is a momentary supply
Lack still remains
But the universe is still my home
Now.

If my head explodes
It's where the demons play
I need to understand
Have you heard the other voice?
The one that says it's all OK?

Location: Wetherby, Wetherby

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