Sunday, February 12, 2012

These days

Tears threaten to well up too soon, without warning

And my jaw hurts in an attempt to smile, its true

These days

I look at childhood pictures and wonder, alarmed

Where the girl in them has vanished, or has she

These days

I wander alone in my flat, stare at an empty fridge

And feel a sinking feeling as I try to sleep, but don’t

These days

I have nothing to lose, yet I feel lost

I get up and get dressed, yet feel stripped

These days

Nothing is the same, yet nothing has changed

All that I say, hear or see, is the same – rearranged

These days

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

A Note to Fat Cells

I like fat cells, I really do

Though often, my reactions are drastic

They absorb shocks, absorb booze

Though physically, they hang loose

Now, that’s not exactly fantastic

I get this feeling, they’re spiteful

To people who abhor and fight them

They’ll enter without asking

And go to parts most taxing

Then settle down, till you can’t move ‘em

Now if fat cells were more polite

And took permission before entering

Easy come, easy go

Go to bust, not booty, yo

They’d probably be worth sheltering.

Vapours of the Past

She dusts the corners, steadfast

Leaving it all behind

She clears the cobwebs, stringent

Burns the visions, unkind

She cuts her losses, merciless

Chars the memories in her head

She clears the spaces, demonical

Puts the stinging memories to bed

She chides the ghosts, haunting

Covers her scars with smiles

She fills the voids, stretching

With stories that stretch for miles

But as she fumigates, fervently

She realizes, quite aghast

That your drastic attempts are a weak ploy

To escape the vapours of the past.