breakfast is a warm
rustlewaker for the
bones. my foaming
milkened coffee is

for slapping dreary
and shaking weary
dreams. scatty cat
should piss off and

leave me alone, oh
all right come and
purr on my lap. it’s
time for the hum &

drum to well come
into my day. left &
right and how are
you and good day

sir. ok, now, read
three hundred and
forty seven urgent
emails before time

to think and prep
for the onslaught
of Mr mister and
the nine fortyfive

sales review. I’m
going to be fucked
again and now the
shakes start, focus,

focus and pull all
your shit together
and breathe,


, she said, how was
your day, and i say
fine and i need more
than a foaming milk

coffee. rum-mmm
pouring to crystal
cut glass, now i’m
home. respite me

liquor iced friend
and ferment some
of the wilted hope
that remains of my

day. tow me back
to the start line ex
cept it might really
be the finish line.


4 thoughts on “vicious

    • thanks Paul. i’m still only really half done. you got me right on the shortness of narrative and life’s despair. i might edit to emphasise both the narrative and shortness but in a longer way. i’ll think.

  1. I bet a lot of people can relate to this poem. Yes, very moody piece with some light bits in places. Certainly get that feeling of the treadmill of life – boring jobs and being dominated by bosses and life. Depressing ending – I’ll just go and get the razor blades out now.

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