Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Drunk Bernard

I pinned all my tickets to my door, and all my clothes to the floor. My curtain has a hole where the moon is at midnight.
So I can look at it and smile to begin a conversation like we used to when we were young.

I keep all the keys I find in a Twinings tea tin. Some are rusty and some are clean. One of them has a pink rubber band over it, and I'm guessing it belonged to little school girl who dropped it on her way to her daily routines.

My wallet is my grandmother's, or was before she gave it to me. The zipper doesn't work and all my loose change scattered to the floor when I opened my wallet to get out my Visa card that doesn't work so I could bye useless things that I like to hide.

You blast your headphones at 100% to block out your mind. You've been working hard to be regular but now you're falling behind.

So I'm stepping up.
I'm a total push over.
It's okay, it's fine, I understand.

Time to man up. Just enough to not get stepped over.
Sometimes I'm so worried and so nervous I forget to breathe. Foolish child. Only because I don't speak when it matters.
Sticking up. Understanding is over, I'm done. I'm not letting you walk on me with those sweet feet, so I'll stand up.

This is why we fight.

I nailed my mirror to the wall, but I'm too short to see myself. I have to move my mirror, or grow up a bit.

I thought by now you'd be better than you are.

I think I've forgotten.
Boys and girls watch each other eat when they only want to watch each other sleep.
Addicted to hands and feet.
I used to not get touched, and now I'm touched all the time.

Insert smile.

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