Indian Summer

An Indian summer in October

A non uniform day in the dirge of dreariness

In you swept unannounced

A hurling hurricane

A sea of calm

A pocket of promises waiting to be unearthed 

You found me in the dearth of my moldy life

You scalpel scraped the pallet clean

Sprouted taste buds where once before lay some withered woes

Alas, you’re an avocado!

All...

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I’m sat in Nero
My mac is absent
But I have tortoise shell specs 
Coffee cups
A pen and pad
Filled with nothing but endless to do lists
Productivity promises
And I’ve just finished a tub of hummus
I think I qualify right?

A wispy voiced limp haired Lolita soundtracks this cliche 
As overpriced
Over spiced
Panini, chai’s and muffin tops
Plonk and plop
On marble topped tables 

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Everyone's a writer 
These days
Poet, playwright, scripted scrawler
5am, cigarette, red wine bawler
Everyone's a writer
These days
It's the craze or just a phase
I don't know
But it seems knee deep in the linen of our lives
And the answer to any creative 
without a clue
who doesn't know what to do 
Or who rides the wave
in a depndent haze
of the ones who script our days
when they ha...

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Now I know what they sing about.
Love songs, break ups, heart aches, make ups.
Every inch now rings true
Now my blue heart is squeezed and strained through the pain
That I might not end up with you

My body in revulsion.
I want to fall, cry, throw up or I may choke
You've broken
my heart and I've broken it too
But I love you so much and I don't know what to do...
But write bad poetry, d...

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