What happened mate? (An exaggerated poetic trilogy).
One Hundred Pills
I have 100 pills mate,
In my fucking draw,
Break off a quarter,
I’ve got some fucking more.
A quarters small?
Yer but we can go all night,
wait till three in the morning,
you’re chattin gobshite.
You know my stepdad beat my mum,
bloody to the floor,
I used to hug her there,
Rang the police they stopped the score.
Where’d I get em?
Brighton mate,
No you can’t have his number,
You’re fake I got a stomp on.
I used to shot smoke,
random cunts would ring,
.7’s till two ounces a week and blunts,
nothing wrong but reputations a front.
Crimes ironic till it’s not.
Snake cunt fuck I had 100 pills,
MATE,
Where’d they fucking go?
No I’m not too fucked fuck off.
What’s my stepdad doing now?
He had an anger management course,
Sure his better. How?
She’s unfettered from reality.
Yes officer I stabbed him,
But he got what he deserved,
Blood and pills by the fishing lakes,
There’s a photo of a cod.
Fuck all but shotties mate,
I’ve got one in my bag.
I don’t trust my back turned,
You get burned for a chat.
Mythos
Burning paper, smelling grass,
Fuck I’m tired.
Wired nights long ago,
fairy’s floating to the staircase below,
When I still believed.
I used to play before my siblings left,
I used to cry when my heart drew breath,
I used to dream when my hand didn’t shake,
I used to pray until I got baked.
Cunts.
The lot of them.
They know what I did,
from the first cig till…….
currently.
Though only an apostrophe
Away.
Handing money over fences,
Grinding dense
BUDS
or so they said they were.
Hugs and pounds of burning myrrh,
but I coughed up.
Self-destruction and a can of Mythos,
we sit alone.
Everyone who understood me stripped me to my bones.
I made mistakes and burnt my life,
socially self-harmed until it was me and my
strife.
But I still sit wishing you,
A better life than the one you choose.
Miss Green
For years he stumbled,
Fuck boy for sale!
Buy me a beer I’m poor and can wail.
Look I’ve got chat,
And a gleam in my eye,
I made it to Uni FUCKING smile.
Then he met her,
sweet and kind,
Stability was the last thing he expected to find.
He thought he was bad but she pulled it out,
Then started lying but no venom,
self-doubt.
Miss Green was always on his mind,
From when he first smoked to the twinkle in her eye,
The way she talked, the way she smiled, the way she moved,
Minx tactile.
Pupils flashed he followed-
Miss Green-
but couldn’t go too far.
His ex had blown up the fucking car.
Miss Green.
You fiend.
A year and covid later he can’t help but reflect,
The sin he should have committed and the theft of the rest,
It’s better that he’s not the kid that he was,
but sometimes he wishes he could just be a sod.
All he can say is it’s not just about me,
and he hopes the pair of them are happy and free.
he stares into the bottle and thinks ‘is it a dream?’,
Then he deflects and beams the TV.
But he still wonders what’s on the mind of Miss Green.
Cover Image Source: https://www.gesar-travel.com/wheel-of-life/?lang=en
