Posts Tagged ‘cups’

orange_bud

I’m running out of cones
The guinea-pigs are squeaking with hunger
They also need new newspaper and attention
The bedroom is a war-zone, festering and corrupt
The sheets are dirty and full of holes
The floor drowns in empty cigarette butts
Dirty coffee cups everywhere
I’m running out of cones
My imaginary girlfriend has a boyfriend
I’m going to die alone

I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’m running out of cones
There are plates all over the floor
There are lunatics at the door
I am tired and I am sore
I can’t take it any more
I think you know the score
I’m running out of cones
I have itchy balls
Desperation crawls up walls
Madness lurks within the halls
My brain feels full of eels
You don’t care how I feel
I’m running out of cones

Living Room

Posted: August 12, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

messy

Twisting Serpentine smoke corkscrews from a huge pile of cigarette butts:
Highlighted against the curtain by a ray of sun-light and I can’t take my eyes off it.
Smoke curls around inside itself, swallows itself then fades into the air.
A helix of smoke arises from an incense stick and mutates into curlicues and the herbal odour permeates the atmosphere.
Smoke seems to be emitted from everywhere in the room, everything smouldering between apathy and antipathy.
Empty beer bottles are like used condoms waiting for disposal,
Dirty plates all over the floor like land-mines,
Waiting to trip someone up or smash into a hundred pieces.
A month’s worth of opened mail on the floor, ripped open, envelopes everywhere,
Combed for particularly desperate bills- everything else radiates from a central point.
Dirty mugs, bowls, pens, papers and miscellaneous crap festering on the coffee table.
Fuck me, what’s it going to take for someone to use the bin around here?