This Is It

when do you go?
I dunno, tomorrow or something,
one drink, two drink
I’ve packed the kitchen sink, might not fit in my new flat
ill come up one Saturday,
really?
yeah sit on a cockroach coach crawling the m1 just to see my best mate,
thatd be great
yeah it’ll be great
when does your new wage come through?
not a clue, end of the month or something,
three drink, four, one more?
sure fella,
two stellas please,
I guess we’ll have these and then we’ll say goodbye
part ways into an ageing night,
(BOTH) nah its fine.
(oh fuck I’m 20)
the present is dark and old
the present witnesses my wince at the cold grey concrete against my cheek,
witnesses my nostrils curl at the dull smokey scent of autumn approaching, encroaching.
I’m lying in the middle of the road I’ve always known, the only place I’ve grown,
my eyes roll at the black tarmac that creeps like ivy everywhere around this no mans land,
(oh fuck I’m 20)
a bottomless river moving everywhere,
going nowhere,
houses bare their teeth like a battalion of jack russells,
dribbling a bland, sodium salivaI’m pissed
alright miss, where do I know you from, i’m tom and I’m gone, I’m done, did doth drink too much, what u having, I’m flush, I’m flashy, flash my pearlies at a barmaid, at my mates they know what’s occurring, can hear the sweet something’s I’m slurring, can read my cardinal grin sharp as the gin I just finished,
blaaaoooke, joooaker, how you gna coax her back to yours,
give her some old chat, tit for tat, bit of this, bit of that
you’ve cracked it mate,
er…
mapped it mate,
er…
you’ve reached some nirvanic state of being when all your seeing is infront of you,
have I?
no behind, no side to side, the now is known, live for yourself and yourself only, no regard for the future, the now is brief but beautiful, a diamond in the mud of time…
(GIRL) so is it your place or mine?
errr, erm, nah nah you’re alright actually, I think im just gna go home…

my friends hold up two fingers
two fingers, acrid? from spilt beer and vodka
they told us not to mix
but we did any way
two fingers, stained by cigarettes
they told us smoking makes it worse
but we did it anyway
two fingers, don’t care about tomorrow…

but to be honest, tomorrows all I can think about
I’m infatuated and terrified by the anguish of tomorrows blue skies,
next weeks white clouds,
next years black moon,
in pain with its terrible possibility,
besotted by its exhilarating sparseness

the present is dark,
the present witnesses my wince at the cold grey concrete against my cheek,
witnesses my nostrils curl at the bland smokey scent of autumn approaching, encroaching.
(oh fuck im 20)
but hope is a solace,
it a warmth in my cheeks,
a sweet perfume in my nostrils,
i stand back up, resplendent, repainting the dark nothingness with greener pastures,
nectar hanging heady in the air,
my fingertips grazing the top of the grass.

oh fuck I’m 20,
but hope is a solace,
this is it.

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