Mouth

I blurt the words
Like I haven’t seen
A soul for
A hundred years
Darkly comical
To be left alone
Stretching my head
Between the two walls
Like plasticine
Clay modelled
Heart not quite
Beating, pulling
A doll’s body
Out of my mouth
With surprising dexterity
To my surprise
It spoke vividly
Of my depths
Fluid, coarse
Questionable lumps
Of fast food
Untouched, even by
Single cell life.
In the end
Thirty-two more
Came up
From the pit
My stomach acid
Burning some alive, some
Glaring, deadly serious
From the trauma
They’d seen
Blank looks
All hit them
When I told them
This wasn’t the top
The mountain ascends
Further west we trek
The harder it is to sustain
A mouth that stretched
Erupting lifeless
Plastics swept
Out to sea
To join the rest

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Mouth

Rust

Slowly slithering
Round gentle corners
Drafty machines
With gaps between
Train and platform
Edging through
Overgrown bushes
Soggy housing
Estates done in
Gather round
Lakes of bilge
Hear the fortune
Teller close another
Industrial relic
Can still taste the
Metal in the air
Rusted out workers
Pull apart their limbs
Waiting for replacements
While the rain seeps
Through the window
Onto the seats

Rust

Spoons

Art deco buildings
Grand empty spaces
Where voices used
To travel in time
Reflections, finding an ear
A decade too late
Now, just a backdrop
For a seventy-year old man
Drooling over his first pint
Certainly, it’s cheaper than
Waiting to die in chains
Spoons abundant
He splatters red sauce across
The dark-mahogony table
And waits patiently
To make passes
At the young waitress
While she cleans
The words from each ear
He remembers a friend
Long dead now
Leasing old buildings
Commercial opportunist
Shaking hands
In the business
Of doing business
With fleece holders
Woolly rights
“Keep yerr cotton on
It was just a joke”
He coughs
She offers him a light
To quicken his demise

Spoons

Hesitation

Hope is what killed it
Foolish little creature
Acting as though luck
Finds a way to fall
The Gods assigning out
Portions, like rations
How come some
Drink from the well
And others drink
From the floor?
I kick it, pragmatic
Movement equates to life
Frowning, I take my seat
Order my meal
I plan to use the finer
Grains. Not a bite
On my hands
Taking action
Clicking fingers
Clinking glasses
Tasting the fragrance
It’s a small measure
That hopeful toast
But its dosage will kill
With the slightest hesitation

Hesitation

A Generalisation of Demographics

Tomorrow is just another step
On a platform. Train coffee
Weeps down chequered seats
Last centuries style
Catch a glimpse of a grey hair
Sprouting through despite
The cuts I’ve made each day
A book hangs loosely
From my other hand
I’m reading about demography
Trying to understand why punching
People who smile is assault
But siphoning off money is encouraged
I wash my hands again
In that dirty sink
Blood red, veins dark blue
Losing is a learning curve
Hanging vertically from a tall tree
Drying out till the resolve
To remain active withers
In the light breeze

A Generalisation of Demographics