we’ve been keeping it casual
hands to mouths
grieving quietly
turning tacitly paranoid
reading into the fiction:
agree to differ

with tongue against the glass
you’re checking out every item in the shop
you dash your brains against the clear expanse of realisation
christ, what a mess you’re in

this is a scissorfight, you cut off your nose to spite the world

holding on to your lunch, if you can
it’s your round
and i’ve run dry again
calling tactlessness honesty
as you try not to notice
and curse the attempt

if palm to palm is sanctity
divinity is knowing when to stop
they say it’s next to godliness
it’s filthy but you love it.

yellowing the lines away, the page sat too long

neglected in the bedroom, with 

between gritted teeth and pedantry, heading for a fall

if there’s meaning in anything, there’s hope for us

teleology gave us pause for thought

a mirror shield to guide us to dying quietly at home

the hero’s journey ended with a whispered resignation

“i am too old for this, i’m too fucking old for this”

i lost a friend tonight

i can’t look you in the eye

sitting here in silence

i lost a friend tonight

nails in tabletops, white lies

we know the rest is silence

you son of a bitch, i’m no fortunate son

for better or worse, the glamour still rolls on

lost, so lost