A stain lands,
from my egg mayonaise sandwich,
that's fallen from my chin
that the girls across the train from me
were laughing at that I didn't even notice,
until it was time to change the page,
I am glad I bought this book.

It's not infatuation
I'm just fascinated
when your face graces
my imagination
so i like it.
And I keep doing it.

You left the lid off the toothpaste.
I didn’t want to say anything.
Instead I let the resentment build up with each day passing,
Every morning and night watching the stalagmitation of the ring growing,
And now only a small thread can make its way out.
Maybe I should have said something and not let the resentment build up like that crust
on the ******* toothpaste you couldn’t put the ******* lid back on.
Now when we speak only a small thread of conversation comes out.
Can you move out please?

It’s time to take down all the decorations,
They look tatty with no celebrations
to give them purpose,
Bauble’s shine turns to rust,
The tinsel starts wilting
Like flowers left in a vase.

Fragments of sellotape cling to the wrapping paper,
And grab at the walls and window ledges it passes on its way to the fire
Trying to escape death.
At least a kind of death.
Floating up out of the flume to be part of a white Christmas for next year.
A flake of ash that ice molecules wrap themselves around to become a snowflake,
And to think you used to be wrapping paper.

So much tasted of last year,
How much is recyclable?
How much to care about complacence of wastage?
How much should I shed a tear?
How much should I care for carbon footprints and ******* tips?
I don’t want to care at all
It’s too much baggage.

All I want is to fly this year,
I’ll make a kite from the bones of the Christmas tree,
The baubles and tinsel and snow spray stripped,
Now bare of all personality.
Maybe it will fly…
If it doesn’t,
There will always be next year,
Until there isn’t…
…And even when I die someday,
Maybe I will get to be a snowflake.
  And I’ll get to fly that way.

“Why do you let yourself get in such a state?”

All we do is get ourselves in a state,
A state of this,
a state of that,
until we can no longer stand it anymore and change to an opposite state
to seek comfort from its failure,
Until infinity.

find a world to fit yourself in,
feel comfortable,
set the parameters around yourself,
and feel good about it for a little while
and feel tired about not being a changing thing that there is no escape,
maybe living in self denial...
Can't think of anything else that rhymes with "I'll",
*******!

Bonfire Night,
Sat on top of Lickeys hills on the 5th of november,
a windy chill
Street lights glowing in the distance of the darkened city like dying embers.
And then it starts,
Red green and white golden sparkles suddenly erupt from the dark with bangs and whistles,
and ooohs and arrrs from the people in all of the parks staring at the sparkling missiles,
Phosphorus flowers pop up all over the city,
It sounds like a warzone
Yet a woman remarks,
"Ooooh that is pretty"
all the people staring up at that sky,
some standing some sitting
but everyone staring into the same places at the same time,
at the metal stained light
Ooo and arrs linger for the silent ones
sprinkling stars
a shining density against the dark,
everyone sharing them, not like at christmas,
where adults feign joy at their presents and the kids turn to viciousness,
Everyone enjoys the same fireworks,
their luminescent kisses on the sky
The tremor of their bang hitting your face and reverberating in your ear drums and in your eyes,
and then it starts to go quiet again,
and a few people start to clap, and then a few more but it doesn't really get going,
and everyone decides that their going home,
it is cold after all
******* windy aswell,
Let's go to a park next year.