i wave a knife round whilst yelling my new catchphrase;
"stab you in the face BITCH!"
repeatedly.

it's hard to look cool in a supermarket car park
when you open your beer up & it foams up in your face
or sitting on the train with a can of butane gas up your sleeve
trying to get off your face inconspicously
or watching a real life game of frogger
then watching it splat in the last lane
i'm past caring
about hiding
in the cellar
listening to
the same loop
of music on
someone else's
mobile phone
how can a couple survive in such a small space?

the avalanche process starts with a single snowball
that as it rolls grows picks up people and cars
like a katamari of snow and dead parts
we admit we were misguided in our ideals it starts
with sitting on the bench of dejection in a smiley face hat & a duffelcoat
when i'm a pensioner i'll always wear smart suits and golfing socks
and maybe a flatcap or a moleskin hat
with a fake fire burning in an ornamental fireplace
white walls and wood panel flooring
with all the furniture wrapped in plastic
crossing the road as slowly as possible to upset traffic
and in my garden i will have an apple tree...
so i can complain to the paper when the local kids go scrumping
(even though i used to sell stolen rhubarb to a newsagent in southbourne)
i have no pension plan
i'm planning to get hit by a bus
and decide my behaviour until then by the roll of a ten sided dice
which you never really see outside of AD&D playing circles
which by then will surely be replaced by the internet
and the everlasting virtual middle earths of infinite length.

sara sold her levelled-up character for a pittance;
equivalent of a few pence.

ending up sharing with charade of smart-suited
businessman on the outside
made of squalor on the inside
from the disgusting bathroom
to playing shithead like some sort of havant student
who i burnt my lips giving her first blowback to.