That night, one of the old guard died,
And the rain said nothing,
And the thunder said nothing,
And the clock with its bell chimes
Struck nothing.

.
     I stare down at the plate of toast and beans
     wondering why this was never part of my dreams.
     Looking for the future with an illusional pretence,
     hoping good apples will fall on my side of the fence.

And as the fork dances slow
around the legumes in spirals,
the tedium of a wasting life
bears the burden and scars
of missed opportunities in paralysis
and the colour of once bright lights
          glow black,
shining a shadow into the void
covering the bruises
that were once achievements of worth,
     now tender patches
          of failure.
I drop the fork ...

     … pushing away the plate and leaving food uneaten,
     my desire for its nutrition fought and beaten,
     Looking at the apple tree with sombre regret
     maybe its fruit will fall and save me yet.

And disappointment
is worse than anger,
it begins with the stench of loss
the nasal whiff of
what if …

And what if the little apple tree
drops all its fruit down to me?
Would I recognise fortune on my side
or fear the illusions and run to hide?


© Pagan Paul (17/02/18)

Watch me diss a p
pe a  r     s
     o eas
y

li ke  s
     tr a nger
         sto a   ju ng
                             le

I can feel you
getting close
your breath picks up
muscles tense
your face twists
your beautiful
freckled face
into pleasure
you prop yourself
up onto elbows
and explode
back down
onto crisp sheets
quivering
sweaty
at ease
I can feel you
because I know
from across this city
you’re thinking of me

I don't want to be made
to feel broken
For wearing my heart out on my sleeve.
Stop making me feel broken
for wearing my heart out on my sleeve.
But I would like to thank you

For making me feel complete.

I have finally noticed

That I am all that I need.