Tuesday, January 17, 2012

5.30 am is a good time for angst.

shriek me out of my sleep
my reverie, my dream.
time to get up
time to go to bed.
my day, stuffed into an ephemeral parentheses 
that conspires with the rising tide of ageing 
against man
tick tock 
an unseen countdown blaring in our heads  

sagging breasts and a drooping cock
dance a tired waltz 
with varicose veins and rheumatism in the chorus 
a sigh for all the things that have been vs. what could have been. 
tick tock
if only we had the time. 

for man cannot live on bread alone
but a slice of chewy angst 
just about cooked over a fire of 
unfulfilled dreams
spiced with the romance of 
missed trains, missed buses and missed stations.
masticating over all the bite that's more than u can chew
imploding hearts in our mouth
saliva rolling over a undistinguishable mass of what you 
once held dear, but forgot to hold close. 
so we sleep tight
betrayal tucked like a novel under our pillows
a soft white breast from the past
held tenderly in your closed fist
while you push the cold body next to you, further away.

do i love you?
oh sure i do. 
but if it weren't for the vows exchanged
in front of a crowd that couldn't care less,
and the children sleeping 
in beds they were made in,
we'd probably be like magazines in a fridge. 
nothing to do with each other
and seriously out of place. 
given the choice of time and space
i'd rather be the pink chewing gum in
the slutty girl-next-door's potty mouth. 

round and round
dizzy and dizzier
nausea and nauseayer
sigh and sigher
i laugh. drowning you out.
until i fall down.
hush ah busha - shush for now. 


de silent spectator said...

ssho !! though i'm not good in enjoying poetry, here i stay amazed...nnaalum nte dannie, here is a big hand for you

MissAnnThrope said...

shoo.now i'm blushing