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Gestures and Scars

An ever present nod,

The edge of the seat, 

Legs which move to an unheard beat;

Flinches of fingers,

Tattoos from the nick,

Fingernails chewed beyond the quick.

A man clearly needing,

Keen for a high,

The man opposite is promising Christ.

Some Kind of Punch and Judy Show

Honest, grubby hands,

Smell of oil and manly man,

Gel and petrol,

Bad coffee machines.

Talk of discs and pads

And clutches and bookings,

Deposits, suppose it’s a walk-in enquiry.

Can you hear me?

Reception’s awful in here

And we’re four hundred pounds

Poorer.

Black Cat

Softly, softly,

Purring and kneading,

Gentle headbutts and 

Green-eyed mystery,

Padding slowly

To nestle on my chest,

Claws and darkness.

Fresh Start

Where the sun sets over the peaks,

Thirty-something miles north, a short hop,

From the claustrophobic red bricks

And straight lines of the old home.

Count Zero Soon

Tick

Tock 

Numbers

Drop

Plots and

Schemes and

Hopeful dreams                              are

Dashed upon the rocks     of        reality.

Two Hours Left

Goodbye,

Yes, I’m moving,

Yes, I’m really leaving,

I’ve only been here five months,

The new place is very pleasing,

I have work to do (I’ve none,

But I’m tired of saying I’m going,

And in two hours I’ll be gone).

Block

Sometimes the pencil refuses to move;

Attrition! 

We’ll see who breaks first.

It’s always me.

Dog Day

The dog is on the bed again,

And I don’t have the stength

To scare him off just yet.

But I will,

And he will

Fuck off for a bit.

Parlimentarily Fucked Up.

The malaise runs deep

As does the rift

Into which

We have jumped

Blindly

As only the desperate

And the foolish

Are wont to do.

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