Famili(arity)

She didn't speak to him. The silence wasn't awkward. No. More hopeless she thought - on his part. And resetful; contemptuous, on her's. For his miserable silence. For his glances: long and lost. Needy. Hounding. Waiting all the while for her to talk to him. But their exchange - never more than a comment on the weather or a bland observation. And as they sat and listened to the music each glance of his that met with hers was vacant, hollow, surrounded by the features of a forced smile. Each glance ruined her mood. Made her uncomfortable and longing for the conversation or the perfect silence had anyone else been sat in the chair opposite.

As the evening marched into its late hours she wondered, and struggled to recall if indeed they had ever had anything to say to one-another - A conversation that was neither forced nor practical.

Upon a Failure to Meditate

He wanted to do nothing.
He wanted to be unproductive.
He wanted to ignore time.
Not waste it.
Just pass it.
As if he had time to spare.
Which he didn't.
And this probably didn't matter.
Because it wasn't working.
And his blank resolve submitted to engage with himself again.
A tidal surge of image and opinion.

...

Perhaps like most of you I specialize in narcissistic self pity. This is an overtly self-conscious and trivial account of a selfish mind. No more.

Is notoriety really an achievement?

Accommodation

This year I became an island
Small, isolated and non-descript
The natives are liberal
But no more than is acceptable to you
Their opinions and culture are whatever yours is
If it means that we get along
And if you want, you can call it an alliance
But it isn’t honest

I am not what I used to be
And this is not who I am
From no angle am I truly reflected in you
That soulful reflection
Wholly unspoken yet agreed beyond doubt
Permission for a true opinion
The insult that would never require an apology
We don’t have that
You and me

And I couldn’t raid your music collection, your library or your fridge without your say so

I am pretentious here
Our minds are parallel
I watch what I say
In case I offend you or contradict you
Because truth be told, I will only ever tolerate you
I am not interested in your point of view
Or how you grew up better than I did
Did you?

I talk for its own sake these days
And I search for a thing to say that might interest you
Because our silences are not comfortable
Our laughter is empathetic
Not simultaneous, subconscious, off-beat and spontaneous
These days I explain the joke after I’ve laughed alone
And my quotes
Though they have a history and are from the heart
Even if I explained
Would mean nothing to you
But if I keep them to myself, they might not lose their value

Your opinion, music, interest, humour
It is not mine
And this inoffensive, bland and noncommittal middle ground that I have backed myself into
Feels like no more than a temporary situation
Hollow, borrowed, fake
Your blissful ignorance
And my mistake

Marmalade

I am such a social retard.
I also like marmalade.
I have taken to sleeping in the nude...on the village green.

Piccadilly

Tie-dye and rainbows
From 10 til dark
Congregated
Flocked
To Piccadilly
Before concrete and fountain
Amongst the trees

Stayed through regeneration
This generation
Of students, blue collar, white collar

Younger back then
Free, communal, open.
Knew everyone
Loved anyone
Head-scarves
Flares
And air cushioned souls

Then we grew up
Moved on
Stopped visiting
Piccadilly