I breath in to find my inner Geezer
ready to speak with a more common vernacular.
I channel my South Londoner
and ensure I have my chipped mugs
ready out on the counter.

I pull the Nescafe and PG Tips forward
from the dusty recesses of the top cupboard
and locate the white sugar, checking that I have
at least five heaped teaspoons’ worth
for the coming encounter.

Later, from behind the net curtains,
I see him sizing up my roof from his van
and I wait for him to walk up the drive to push the doorbell.
Oh, no, THE DOORBELL!

And, too late, what credibility I had pieced together cringes
at the anticipation of the Batman themed doorbell ring,
which until that morning had seemed an appropriate ice breaker.

Face set and hands met off the clock, innocence is often lost as seconds drop.
Our magic stirs but it's strength can fade, so in retrospect why ever expect better.

A middle ground of careless selfishness, when failure is an automated pretense. The real fault in our aims for success, not of ourselves but ignoring those with less.

Time is short, decisions often compromised, death will soon swing by to take your eyes. Without a single disregard for who you are, to choose yourself above all others on par.

~every distance is a long shot
within reach of a fool~
                          Prv. 𝑓:𝑦

bleed your heart out in dripping
poetic pretense―slip
that inky salamander some silk:

         "the wilting waiting flora
bequeathed their busting bouquets and
     bountiful bosoms unto the world
              in all of its prescient
                       violence"

then read it back to yourself
later and be
absolutely disgusted.

throw it away with all the other
things you've done in your
life.

now reach back in your closet
and rattle the skeletons
lingering there.

finger your dreams in the
dark under pressure
from the mind
to find yourself.

the lightning severance
will sing and
anxiety will
harmonize with the knife.

you've done it again...
****** it all up
and everyone
knows it.

you could eat all the erasers
in the world
and your **** still
wouldn't come out correct.

a lifetime of valleys and
seawalls has made you
an avatar of
effortless blunder.

and you can't stop bleeding
all over the page; white
is red again
cause
you blue it.

bleed in―breathe out
breathe in―bleed out
bleed in―breathe out
breathe in―
bleed out...

welcome to the creative
process.

Called out your name
For just a couple of moments,
You were still here
Stared into the quiet
Conversations in our minds
Laughter in our souls
Then the world turned
And the sun set
The seconds are over
And so, you left us.

Broken glass.
Shattered dreams.
Defeated game.
Crumbling inside.
Yet you smile—
And say “I’m okay.”
Pretense.