For comfort he draws on cigarette
A fixed gaze
Trance
You can clearly see the contemplation
That well ploughed brow
The muscles never rest
The thousands in his face
If coloured then a Rhubicks cube
Mixed up re arranged
Exhales tries to forget his past
But his lungs hang black like 2 dripping bats
And skin tannin yellow
And artery fat
Says it all that
Party time abuse
Catches up with you
A shadow of his former self
A product sell by date expired shelf
Tired eyes finally fading
His bitterness once shallow
Wading now
An encroaching tide
Fills up a world
He feels he no longer fits
Yet to embrace it
Mr Rhubick
People are Rhubicks
All mixed up the different colours
Integrate
And when attempting to co ordinate
Hours I seem to waste
And no thanks from plastic squares is given
He pulled over at the next motorway service station
But his side was closed
A pre cast footbridge connected him
To cold garage sandwiches and a coke
The fizz caught his nostrils out
And he choked a while
Almost regurgitating
He sighed and the sound was underlined
By the hypnotic roar of speeding car tyres
The carriageway seemed to surround him
The sound had bounced from every steel rim
Garage sandwiches
Garage flowers
Garage porn
Garage yawn the RAC have a drink
Like red bull
A skiff full of it
Gives the caffeine hit
To endure the journey
Ice cold Inuit
May as well be