I can see the drops drip
permanent, soluble.
disappointment, glory
it speaks volumes
of a journey in solitude.

these are my coward shoes
we have walked many a mile
leaving trouble behind
unafraid to lose

they are comfortable and warm
with a slight smell of deceit
to be a coward you lie
keeping your happy feet

eggs
jug, broken shells
in the sink
Radiohead wails OK Computer
from Alexa archive
Jack glugs from a freshly
unsealed present from my wife
am I hip like Motorhead
or just another tipsy old dad
I wonder what Urbex explorers
would discover if they
crawled through my letter box
into this mess of a kitchen
onion makes me cry
something I never did
as a child
cheese and ham
how much **** can I cram
into this frying pan
an alchemical cupboard
of herbs and spices pervades
my sense of smell
am I brave enough
should I have beans
I’ll only eat half a can
people are starving somewhere
out of date packets call
do you feel lucky punk
but sliced beef for **** sake
who can resist that
a forgotten sandwich
never made
the truth in the pan
unmixed ingredients
never mind says bourbon head
it’s all the same
gas ring ignites
north sea pipelines
fishermen risking their lives for
for Brexit quota lies
the fiery grill, another bourbon
once you pop
small one in a big glass
carnage of packet autopsy
for the morning after
waits

we build a bridge
one brick at a time
that will hold our weight

so we can run into
each others arms again

will I enter the kingdom of heaven
through pearly gates
or a crack
in the garden fence
will I take a stairway
Led Zeppelin like
or an overgrown path
that's hard to trace
will there be anyone waiting
to welcome my earthly trace
or will I have to find
my own imperfect space

or perhaps there is a highway
that leads to a warmer place

I will scratch that itch
and she will devour my anger

in a room dimly lit
we play back half a relationship
like it's something we deserve
or even dare to understand

I'm sorry I'm so much like you
that you want to live through me
my alabaster features
from the same old block chipped
spitting of your image
if images could spit

I'm sorry I'm so much like you
because I wanted to be me
experience days, months, years
not a predestined journey
with footsteps I should follow
treading in your expectations

so that one day when I'm not
the dream you had for me
I become the disappointment
in your family tree