HUMANITY IS A VEXATION ON MY SOUL

Humanity seems determined to destroy me
With its crushing idiocy and sure-fire desire
To enslave me in a tomb of insanity
Whether it be drug dealers waiting until I’m drunk
Before tapping me up and asking for papers and baccy
With no agenda other than to bring me down
So they can taunt me again as a wave of
Self-loathing buries itself deep inside me, or
Owners in pubs that I ain’t been to in months
Inviting me to events I used to read at knowing
Full well there’s no way I’ll attend whilst
Hoping the people I’d reached out too had done what they’d said
Or bosses at work telling me you need my superiors’
Approval before swapping that shift over when
My dad comes to visit for the last time probably
Calls for pie and mash and a few beers
Before a bout of football up in SE16

It’s shit like this that led me to the beginning of
All those years of addiction but now that’s over
What else can I do apart from say fuck it
You ain’t my friend or my boss and I’ll do things
This way from now on, showing no mercy in the face
Of stupidity, just wanting to be left alone from
These parasites that are a vexation on my soul

NOT A WILD WEDNESDAY (OF WHICH I’VE DREAMED)

Wednesday night
1 beer down and
The words keep
Aflowing so this
Time i’ll double
My effort, make
It another beer
And a cheeky
Bourbon, a smoke
And then maybe
Time to go out.


FEARFUL RECONCILIATION

She came in the other day meaning I'd
Run into her twice in two days; both times
In supermarkets but on the second day it
Was my new place of working.

We eyed each other with a little fear, each
Hesitant to ask how's it going?  We enjoyed
The silence but knew it would have to end
As she stood before me, waiting.

I've made it through two then and so far,
Beyond that mad twinkle in her eye, all has
Passed peacefully, I just hope it continues
On like this, calm yet fearful of what may happen.

The other day I knew she had a chance, of all
My customers it was only her card that was
Playing up and it took a good couple of minutes
To set her on the way, the short hate-filled walk
Back to her flat to be spent alone with nothing
To fill the void but a cheap bottle of co-op rose.


A SUNDAY NOT HUNGOVER

It’s Sunday and when my eyes
Open wide the first thing I see
Is my dreaded alarm clock, it
Ain’t due to go off today.  Not
This Sunday as for the first while
In a couple of months I wake
Not full of regret and hungover,
But the clock it still says its the
Middle of the night so I yawn
Roll over and sleep a little bit
Longer, a few more blissful
Hours which finally comes to
An end with flickers of sun
Coming through my window
In between the vast swaths of
That horrible looking cloud.

So this morning I woke and got
Back on board the madness train
With a hint of breakfast and that
Glorious stench of smoke.  It
Played out like that until about
Ten minutes ago when I decided
I needed to get this experience down
A Sunday, not hungover and
Writing with three hours until I
Need to be at work.


MIDDLE AGED PAINS

My legs are numb
And my feet are sore
My back has ached
For nearly two weeks
If this is middle-aged
You can fucking have it!


FOREVER CRYING (I HOPE NOT)

I can feel my mind unraveling and all I want to do
Is cry
Cry until this feeling goes away
But right now I’m unsure that this will ever cease
That’ll never go away
No matter how hard I cry
Or for how long because
Well, I worry that this might be a permanent state of affairs


Bradford Middleton