It is hard to look back now

those years drifting

ghosting in the community

I fear I was always good company

there in the corner

talking to fresh blood

sleeping over at yours

then yours

occasionally having my own space

and you’d sleep at mine

there is a sense of poverty

though no thoughts on hunger

we were all thin

necking on beer & pills

smoking whatever was around

listening to music thru’ the hours

running in the dark

towards everything

no goodbyes recorded

tho’ you are all gone

to better lives

sullen wives

who will not speak

in case I dragged you away

from a night with the tv

bringing you home in a mess


now my ghosting

is a different turn

sliding by you in the street

by you in the supermarket

you do not notice me at all

as I try not to speak

in case you hear the voice

if not recognise the face

what could we talk of now?

you no longer paint

your potters wheel is still

& the line has left you


of words to string


I cannot do this for you



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s