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The light of the sun creeps across the duvet
under which you and I are entwined.
Our limbs entangled like a pair of neglected earphones,
stowed away in a now unused jacket pocket;
both of us pleasantly unable to ascertain where our body starts
and the others begins.

The room smells like stale cigarettes and wine,
which is only intensified by both the heat of the sun
and the warmth of our own biology.
The aroma transforms from stale to fresh as I crack a new bottle,
pouring us both a healthy glass,
whilst you light our last cigarette;
Taking a few draws then passing it to me,
along with the over-flowing ashtray.

Our unwashed skin is sticky with dry sweat,
accumulated during sleep and *******;
Our mouths rancid from the wine
and the lack of toothpaste applied.
To the naked eye there is a thick and smokey cloud of filth
occupying the space above our heads;
creating an atmosphere uninhabitable to anyone but us.

This mass of pollution combines with the salt-filled air,
streaming in from the open window;
making for an interesting cocktail of unpleasantness.
To all this we are blissfully unaware,
and we just lie there,
basting in it;
caring not a jot.
Our thoughts only for each other
and the tingling in our nerve endings
when we catch the others eye.

For eternity we lie there,
until one of us has to ****.
I haven't posted in so long, I thought it was time.
When I was very young
Certainly pre-school age
I had a little tricycle which I loved
One day
I decided that I could ride it down steps
I was wrong
"Whaaaaaah! Me 'air 'urts!"
"He's banged his head. You're alright
You're not bleeding so shut up skriking."

A day or two later on the same tricycle
Tearing down the hill opposite our house
In the middle of the road
It was a time when cars were rare on council estates
Indeed, ice-cream men rode push-bikes
With big ice boxes on the front containing his wares
And there was one on the road
Of course, I managed to hit it
"Whaaaaaaaa!!!"
"There there, yer alright, lad. Have a free ice-cream."
"Whaaaa - oh, ok."

My parents kept the front gate closed after that
I wasn't tall enough to reach the latch
They wouldn't let me ride my tricycle
Unless there was an adult present
So now that I was safe
I promptly fell over the dog and banged my head on the gate
"Whaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!"

                                   By Phil Roberts
Lonely men chase butterflies
They run and run
Cry and cry

Lost boys chase dragonflies
From here to there
Try and try

Honest men seek a rose
They pick and place
Wilt and waste

Smart boys leave her where she grows
To stay and wait
He appreciates
hope springs eternal
in the human breast.
though, we cope to journal
what we can't digest.
i digress. i confess,
i’m a mess yet i address
what i transgress and i reassess
my disposition. for instance,
i made a decision to make progress and what i set, i met.
yet i let myself regress to a great depression
in which i questioned what was predestined
so i searched for penance and found surrealism.
i heard sundry ideals, the sounds of theism.
i let my thoughts run free among the prisms
and tasted other worldly wisdom on my tongue.

© Matthew Harlovic
Don't force the beauty out of yourself,
someday it'll find it's way
out of insecurities.
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