dripping steadily
One black wrap
flung lazily
Gathering dust on a forgotten floor.
One small crack
on a picture frame
An empty pack
of fags to claim
For no one at the shuttered door.
Delirious TV
crackles on
Empty freezer
rattles on
Wet window panes look out for more.
Nothing changes
No one speaks
Silently
they all grow weak.
Till one blue day
They start to fray
And wear away all stiff and sore.
No ones's coming
No one's there
Don't waste time
Don't stand and stare.
Fix the plumbing
Stock the fridge
Pick the clothes up
Build the bridge.
Wipe the windows
Mend the crack
Turn off the TV
Get your life back.
Notes: If you want to know if he crashed or survived, read
6 comments:
Nice :)
Btw I'm following your instructions n hoping - I get my life back :D
hmm...realism, i like it.
ryn: wine bottles = weapons. perhaps no to the shotgun, but it would be good while it lasted. it's the state of mind, isn't it, the way we think things fall to the ground. maybe no shotgun. maybe because it's not necessary.
I had the faint sense that should be strumming a guitar while reading this. No kidding - ditch the tube, it is the cancer of modern society!
cherie; thanks :)
aria: of course you will, and I love playing 'teacher' :D
shadowlor: yeah, thats better. and by the way, the wine can make YOU fall to the ground which won't help either! :)
nick: and when you do strum that guitar, perhaps I'll hear it, and do the right thing.
Lovely write this! the scene and then the punch! Beautiful :P
Yes, better to get the damn life back than be damned wallowing in the hell of loneliness.
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