The Ribena still sat on the bed side table
of course the Ribena still sat on the bed side table
all of the childhood in me was summed up
in that Ribena sitting on the bed side table
next to the bed
that single bed
too large for the 35 kilo chicken that resided within it
waiting.

When the sagging
milky eyed
lost stares
of the people surrounding me
holding the hands
of the people they used to know
waiting.

The crumpled blankets
holding the immovable poles
too thin to support the life they used to hold
pasty creases
hanging flesh
clinging to those old brittle bones
a small chicken
a bird
waiting.

After The Fact

And the consequences hardly seem to matter
when they're quite good in bed.

I Like The Attention

I love the smell of ashtrays
and wine
stained on my shirt.

Another late night
in another boozed soaked bar
your elbows sticky
from leaning towards
another guy with crooked teeth
who calls himself Lancelot
and who slides another free beer towards you.

The smell of another perfume
You didn't put on
the musky odor
rich and stale
I breath it in and remember
making out
to the sound of people cheering
leering
and pulling up my skirt.

Happy times
I quickly forget.