all of this could, indeed,
be ours
spreading lies between
oiled up thighs
thick with condescension and a
veneer of left over hand-me-down
desire
its not quite you,
it's a not even a substitute
but it will do:
filling the loneliness
at the bottom of the well

feels liberating
these little first world problems
resolved by unsubscribing
from an annoying mailing list
or deleting an aged account
that is useless, created on a whim
filling in-boxes with spam and junk
killing social media links,
paring back digital presences
all with the idea
of spending less time farting about
more time creating, living, reading
but they **** you back
with 2 for 1 deals, 10% off,
free for a month, look we’ve added
some ****, and yeah, it costs more, but
our life will be better with it
so the rest of the night
is filled with creating spam filters
more unsubscribing, more account deletions
until someone recommends you sign up for
the new revolutionary internet saviour
the be all and end all of all your woes
it will make you stronger, faster, more
organised, less likely to drink yourself
to sleep each night, give you the power
of 10 rhinos, and the ****** prowess of
a puma!

probably best to disconnect now
turn off the router, unplug the modem
get your **** the old fashioned way
before they tie your nervous system
to the silicon pathways
and advertise to your dreams

Bah!
Getting older *****,
with all the aches and pains
and worries about growths
and tumours,
cancers and heart failure

my prostrate is fine,
thank you very much,
but can you check this mole?
this pain, this ache?
this over impending sense
of mortality knocking at the door?

the late night harrowing
discoveries guaranteeing
no sleep
until a call to the doctor,

the cutting back on everything
while increasing vitamin intake
exercise, stress free times
for self reflection
and discovery of ailments
and illnesses, inducing stress
increasing heart rate,
needing a drink to calm down
but not too much, as the liver
has already suffered enough

the days advance into night
and the night advances to day
and before you know it
it the sun sets one last time

This could be
my love poem
one dedicated to
the ins and outs
the be all and end all
of my dedication to you
in body and mind
but the sparrows in
my chest flutter and chirp
dampening my voice
and the words all warble
and twist

this could be
my love poem
filled with all the
hows, whys, whens
and wheres
of the passion
I feel when touching
your naked flesh
but the electricity
that arcs from your breast
to mine
constricts my larynx
and the words squeak
and squawk

this could be
my love poem
showering you with
the adoration
that, in past times,
brought nations
to war
but my head is filled
with cotton wool
and my eyes take
one last glimpse
of your smile
and the words are
lost in half murmured
barely audible sibilance