Red carpet, burn marks, blur of piss and Mad Dog 20:20.

Foggy bursts of floral perfume masking ciggies

slyly smoked by giggling under-aged lassies.

 

Who're you to judge, who're you to tell?

 

She fixes her lippy, dreaming of kissing,

lips smack against frayed toilet tissue.

Slug back warm beer to help forget who she is.

 

Not that you can, or you ...

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Nothing satisifies.
Nothing’s ever good enough.
Something else needed.

Grass always greener.
If life is to be like this,
it “should be cleaner”.

“It’s too expensive”
and you’re left feeling hollow
‘coz “it’s all the same”.

“It’s Wrong ?" oh so wrong”.
But when you do feel happy
I will see you laugh.

I love the feeling
of the sun’s smile on my face.
Shining, through glasses.

April - ...

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