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BUY THIS! BUY THIS! BUY THIS!
But I don’t want – BUY THIS!
Why? What does it do?
YOU WANT THIS!
That doesn’t answer my question.
LOOK AT THIS! THIS IS AMAZING!
Um… you’re not making any sense.
BUY THIS! BUY THIS! BUY THIS!
What?
BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!
*End*

… well, that was convincing.

Jaw-locked

Gritting your teeth
(a habit from too much
metal music).

Your jaw cracks
whenever you yawn,
chew, speak.

All the necessities
and you're freezing up,
jaw-locked.

Never opening up;
you grind them
in your sleep.

Then you find
you can’t break
the seal to breathe.

Do Come In...

Tuesday 10th

Do come in, old friend.

Back for another brew?

Don't get too comfy there

your eviction is soon due.

I can't have you stopping 'round

every other day.

It might be impolite to say

that I need a little space.

You are an awful crowd in here

cluttering my mind.

I know you like a chatter dear

but my ear's falling behind.

That's awfully interesting mind

the one about your cat;

however do you cope

with a life as wild as that?

Now, on your feet, be off with you,

go door-knock number two.

I do enjoy your visits, love,

but I'm busy next afternoon.

The one after that, we'll see.

For you, I'll try to keep it free,

but engagements do tend to crop up;

you never can be sure with me.

Still talking on the step outside?

My, you are a keen one.

I really have to get on now, dear,

maybe next week, sometime soon.

Still, any time you're passing, love,

please, come in, do.

Quick, kill the cat!

Monday 9th

“Quick, kill the cat.”
Curiosity did it. Don’t
believe that? Don’t.
I won’t let you
fall
into another fucking
storybook lie. Cats.
Are. Not. Curious.
Dogs are not man’s
best friend.
Fish do not have
personality.
Personally, I think
you need to let it go
and go face reality.
Pets are not people.
You’re lonely and trapped.
You need to get out.
You need some company.
So I killed your cat.

Sunday 8th

We were there
once…

One time
when the sun shone brighter
than it does today
The sky – of your eyes –
was blue
without its spasmic flickers of grey.
The grass was greener,
dewdrops rolling down
a curved spine… and bodies
lay together in the dying light.
Washed-out corn shivered
in delight of the wind,
ticklish; bracing
itself for war, moments
before the rain came,
spreading ripples
across our universe.

Water hits like bullets,
cracking the concrete,
drilling the earth.
A ghost haze of rain
so pointed
it slices through you
gasps of ice air
as the downpour
destroys our heated
summer affair.

To think
I saw its beauty
once.*

* I think I did a Varun. :S

Beautiful boys

Saturday 7^th

Beautiful boys
pluck their brows
just so much.
Exfoliate their smiles,
but leave some stubble
- ‘cause that’s butch.
Sculpt their hair
so it looks windswept,
and devil-may-care.
Tailor themselves
to the latest style,
but only so far.
Always one trend
below their contempt
‘cause they’re not followers
or so they maintain.

Now, there’s nothing wrong
with personal grooming,
but are you compensating
for something?
For the fact that you’re
nothing?
And want to be someone
who doesn’t exist,
who has to be created by cosmetics,
reconstructed, recreated perfect,
rather than who you are
first thing one a Monday morning

when the sleep hasn’t shifted.