Blades

Sadness is low signal
Not able to participate
In clickonomics.
A fizz of adrenaline
Spending less than
It ought to cost
The component breaks
As quickly as the last.
I’ve resorted to impulse
Buying wardrobes
In the hope of meeting
The man of my dreams
In another case of
False advertising.
Boredom is where
The dread lurks
Nervous ticks keep
Holding the fort
Alive and breathing
Heavy sweat
Legs aching
The weight of
Nothing cutting
Through shoulder
Blades like grass

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Blades

Amateur

It’s hard to tell once on
The train to Birmingham
Whether it changed anything
Seeing a multiracial society
Kids running across bustling streets
The sights and smells differ
From quiet, sterilised streets
Amateur gardeners knead out
The weeds around a small plot
Of land. I’m bored just watching
The intricate backbreaking toil
I could remove the signs from
School gates, take what disruption
I can get my hands upon
Lice crawling on bare skin
Escape, not yet an option

Amateur