“Can you get your head
Off my breast,” she said,

The dead weight was killing her,
Sending messages

To her brain to get
The pain-in-the-****

Off of her, go back to sleep;
But when she gazed at him,

At his fine shaped,
Dark-haired, head,

She relented,
Let him lay his head

And thought of him
Dying there instead.

And how could it be otherwise,
She knew the thumping year,
The old despise,

With words to match;
The peel and pinch,
The sink and feel

And know her reach
Of deep despair
And know each touch

Each poke and pull
All beneath his cloak
Of double-dealings

And double-talk;
To feel as ghosts walk

Who was that?
Netanya asked

who was whom?
I said

that *****
who has just
dropped you off
in her car
she said

O her
she gave me
a lift home
from the store

what did you do
at the store
that she needs
to give you a lift
in her car?
she said

I work at the store
she said
can I give you
a life home?

O sure
what else
did you give her
to make her
so grateful?

she gave me a lift
because she was going
my way
I said

do you fancy her?
does she get
your pecker going?
Netanya said
in her tight voice

I walked to the fridge
and took out a beer
pulled the ring
on the lid
and took a sip

she's four months pregnant
I said
walking to the sitting room
and sitting down

yours I suppose
she said
she stood with her hands
on her hips
her eyes darkening

no of course not
I barely know her
she works
in Home ware

I bet you've
given her one
Netanya said

I looked
at her frizzy hair
dark but greying

you know I wouldn't
I said

how do I know
what you get up to
at the store?
she replied

I don't fancy any
of the dames
at the store
I lied

Netanya walked off
her backside swaying
like a ship
on stormy seas

thoughts of the young dame
on Perishables
buzzing like bees.

every night
I am scared to close my eyes

for the fear
that I may never wake up again
is so overwhelming.

"welcome to Hell, darling."

he mumbled


and I nodded
taking the poison
from his lips


and sticking it between mine

I was a chimney

the smoke billowed up

clogging the room




"isn't it a lovely view?"

and it's moments like these
when I'm all alone
at 2:42 p.m.
with the fire stuck in the sky
illuminating my cluttered desk
when I realize
that no one
(truly)
knows who I am.
no one has ever
shaved away the many layers of skin
covering my
(real)
heart
because maybe no one
(truly)
cares.