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Hey you,

Just got back to the flat, not the same without you sat at the top of the stairs typing away.

Reminders all over, showing me of your recent presence.
First sight at pile of dishes that you washed,
Empty grissini breadstick's box,
Still some tzatziki and houmous left though.

Need a ****, can't deal with this already.
Ahh, that's better. A tooth-brush is missing,
Spa Covent Garden Sanctuary, Irish Meadow?
Will upstairs be any better?

Must pause, plug in interent hub. ****,
Back to old self so soon.
Duvet squashed up to the back wall,
Can almost make out your imprint.

I'm reluctant to throw out the remaining *** butts,
Seems as if you're still here.
Half drunken mugs of tea, finished quiche,
Can't believe I was so sick on the last night.

Bad dreams yesterday, two in fact.
Both being hung over ridiculous heights.
No good with that, big fear.
A sign of pressure bearing down?

Held council to rights, no joy.
Start the whole drawn out claim again,
Lot's of boxes to tick and fill.
Toss pots, must bite tongue and get on.

Doctor’s waiting room has mags for women only,
Nothing to chill my nervous mind.
'But are you going to faint on me?'
I made it through allright, lost some blood.

ECG scan on Thursday, for what though?
Chest or heart? Probably heart.
Mid-life wake-up call come early.
Do I really want to know? I suppose.


Where's my lovely? I need her so.
A cuddle, a smile, all better.
Action time- phoned all bills, extra time.
C'mere money, pretty please?

What thong then? Suspicious...
I was right (kinda)! ***!!!
So excited, so touched, wow!
We will work it out Dee.

Thoughts of wild horses scare me not,
Something feeling very right, not at all wrong.
Hardest thing ever has already been done-
Finding that special little someone.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
I.

russia? russia was great, a month spent in St. Petersburg, the white polar nights of summer, like Al Paccino in Alaska... the train journey into Moscow... god... their metro system is like a ******* museum, where you can't film or take photographs... and back in St. Petersburg? what's uber? i don't even know who uses taxis in russia, you can get an urban hitch-hike on the spot, no app is necessary, people offer you a ride and you pay them... but there's no app... just human decency of courtesy... and i sometimes think about traveling to H'america... but not to your usual tourist hot spots for Europeans... the obscure parts, the local... the small town / middle sized town america... oh **** now... new york city? too much chaos... London looks just fine Noak hill, from a distance of about 15 miles...

II.

   guess it's back to the good old days of rummaging
through last.fm...
         the youtube algorithm "suggesting"
what i've already listened to...
    don't ask me why the glitch allowed
   puscifer's song
                undertaker (renholder remix)
through...
    but it did... so? i'm grooving...
drank all the whiskey, drank all the *****...
now it's onto Havana ***...
          
III.

are people still writing about a love that
only exists in their heads?
                           nothing plain and
rudimentary out from the murk of life?
           here's one...
                      whispering woman cashiers
stalling in the self-checkout part
of the market...
         i'm there every day,
   washed, perfumed in deodorant,
    clean clothes...
but drinking a liter of Mike Tyson's
worth of a punching bag that's my liver...
      but on the occasion?
the feeling of a gurgling stomach,
the peckish side of drinking...
  
               it used to be hoisin duck wrap
as the ultimate disgruntled stomach
filler...
     but lately?
      my palette changed... dramatically...
   **** me...
   falafel & houmous (no mayo wrap):
- tomato tortilla
- carrot & coriander falafel
- mango chutney
- houmous
   - carrots
                           - spinach...

(IV.)

( how do i feel? does that even matter?
       the music behind the writing
is my shawl -
                i know well enough
the limitations of writing -
  personally, writing is not about the writing
itself -
  but more about coordinating my hands
on a keyboard,
   allowing me to avoid looking down
on it, and staring blank faced at the emerging
writing.)
Yenson Oct 2020
If I was raised without genuine emotions
where vacuous superficialities hung in every
breath
and fathers were here today gone tomorrow
and mothers
said they loved but never spoke the truth
If friends were foes and foes friend
and life's reliefs came in bottles and cheap passions
coupled with fun in raging disobedience
and prohibition and a record are badges of honor
If all around me I dance
in fear and the insecurities of wanton choices
bathe in shallow pools and disjointed ideals
and watch travellers
build empires and bring Cathey to towns and cities
and Eastern riches grow into Medicines and Law
and Leroys from the Estates are now sitting in Parliament
telling us how to be
while sharp dark dancers with huge tools take all the hot tooties
and even Ron's chippie is now Ali and Raj's and you get houmous
If I have lost myself
and my mind is now confused and laden with anger and hate
on top of knowing I carry a stub gun that is trigger happy
challenging my waning masculinity and simple mind
If I didn't feel stripped of me while seeing real men with the prizes
I wouldn't feel so inadequate and inferior
burning with angst and belligerence hate
I would not become the covert racist I am now
I will not be the coward that hides in fear throwing stones
I wouldn't be the angry troll dissing all my betters
a stalwart of discontentment hiding in the shadows
blaming, hating, full of self loathing, angry and mad as hell
I believe in Nihilism, I believe in Anarchy, I believe in Revolution
cause I do not believe in me
for there is no me
my hate and inadequacies have eaten me

— The End —