trans, nerd.

When’s Day


I did agree

To do some finance work today.

But came there none

So I have done

Not a fucking thing all day.

To Books

These shelves are full with

Forgotten words,

They ache with sentiments

And troubles passed,

They bow and bend with each new tale

But they were built to last.

There are no favourites standing there, 

Merely those which went before,

The book which I am reading now

Is the one that I adore.

Over the Cracks

A thin coat of gloss

To cover the stains;

Under the scent of new paint

There is rot.

Sod Off

I am not an oyster;

Constant irritation

Will not produce a pearl.

Too Early To Scheme

When schemes are dreams 

They largely stay

Behind the dreamer’s eyes,

They turn and change,

They slowly rot

And become the dreamer’s lies.

Alone In The Office, Or…

“Shh, you’re talking to yourself!”

Said I.

To myself.

For the seventh time.

This morning. 

Doris’ Day

Through the south-west windows

I see Doris. I hear her bellows.

She approaches over the park;

The view from here

Is wonderful on better days

But today

It’s grey.


No answers;

No direction amid the swirling mists

And chaos.

Often lost;

No landmarks to find, no roadsigns,

No payoff.

Peace and Pipes

I bare myself to the water

To legitimise 

My hiding

And pretend it’s something more.

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