I am the danger,
The insurance man, a timetabler.
Give me a tenner, Mother
Some like it hot
I like it cold like copper coin
Dropped into my pocket.

Endlessly flicking through three blue apps,
Hopelessly trying to fill some sort of gap.

Feeding an addiction for connection
Seeming to be a part of something

Look at all the friends I have!
They watch my every move, like I do to them.

What did you have for tea?
Where did you go last night?

Don't say it show it, with a cultivated smile and prepared pose ready always to be captured

Nothing's happened unless you get a picture, you were never there if there's not a post about it.

Happy happy happy people
Cry cry cry when tap of fingers doesn't suffice to the last time you tried.

In these woods, for me, I see only memory.
In the fallen trees of lonely trails
And scattered shattered leaves,
My dreams of childhood come to be.

They drift off on the muddy damp ground,
To the understated sound
of the slow stream, rushing of cars,
distantly bustling by,

Surrounding the place my friends and I,
Spent empty summer days
In play of discovery
And empty summer nights
In youthful delight.

I look up to see seagulls in the sky.
Darting through the blue like dolphins through tides.
Saling round my head
Like blood clots in my eyes.

Blue and yellow light bulbs.
One, creeping hint of modernism.
The other, part of overall dying romance.
Won't find the later anymore.
Unfavorable ecologically.
Or was it economically

Nina Simone, occupying ears singing about bed and dressers.
Sparsely populated
young couple
Interrupted by saying amusements.
Only two stops
I know where to get off

I knew to mind the gap
I'm a responsible citizen
Voter with a valid railcard
Only two stops
Purchased a ticket
Only two stops
I can not throw up in that time

I can not clear my system of over-priced beer
A niche in the market
Exploited in the name of money Making let's just raise them
let's charge extortionate rates for an autoimmune disease

Paying to support a normal drinking culture embedded into the narrative
Growing by in the western world Listening to Nina Simone
Only one stop now you'd never know what life would be like

Without loud pop charts entertaining a few leaving the others yearning the return of ABBA when times were simpler and people cared about Eurovision and illegal music was your own

“Tickets please”
He seems awfully jolly for a late night ****-shift on Arriva Trains Wales
Who's making him work and why's he So ******* happy about it
Real extra effort! Soul sapping in my opinion
Last stop gotta get off.

Trampling through their city paths,
Hunting ground, mean street.
They perch aloft towers of oak;
Dripping with prestige vine, wrapped
With silk leaves, soft to touch
And hard to climb.

The Sun sets over the seven lakes
Of spring kissed, freshly mown
Fields of scorn blessed by
Solitudal and beady eyes.
Gates keeping out the world that
Wishes them harm.

They sit so high peering down,
At our destitution, our self-prohetised Might!
And think:
“Pfft you all wish you could fly