Pushing through the tourists
the sounds and scents of a bazaar
flood my body,
until I wake up to find it's all a dream.

What madness.

I've pulled away from my bed,
dug my fingernails into the corners of my eyes
and bitten my nails to the dull news that its
12 o'clock and even the ******* trucks have
left their skidmarks on the road behind.

While a yawn fights the tightness in the joins
of my lips i'm embraced by a slow numbness
that's familiar.

It's the rough teeth of another hangover
immune to colgate.
Its another day of shame hanging to my forehead,
sighing a tired ******* to moisturiser.

In the mirror I look like the anti-man and
I feel I should ask
if a gorgon once stared into the same mirror
and left just a stone behind.

I look myself in the anti-man's eyes
and we listen to our mantra -

Be a human.
Cast out the magic
in your fingertips.
Let the dust fly out
and become the Midas
of glitter.

Be a man and beat
the job market, stiffen up
To this pantomime and
through your black eyes  
blink back the sweat
of every empty promise you've ever made .

Be a girl and
dress like you want to
in bodycon and heels.
Lets the long hair fall
down your back
and believe you're pretty.

Please be something,
because I won't I wake up tomorrow
and find its all a dream

I'm just an animal boy.

I  feel the cold granite of my skin.