Friday, July 1, 2016

When the dawn breaks, a breakfast of broken clichés.



When the fog lifts
I will get my life in order
Make my bed
Clean my room
Shift those old shoes that smell all the time
  
When the dog barks
I will come to attention
Look both ways and decide on a direction to run
Try to remember what it is that I am running from

When I realise
That staying right here is easier
Easier than looking in the mirror
Facing the world, being angry at the paper
My family, my boss, the landlord who keeps asking
My girlfriend who doesn’t ask anymore
The news on the TV, all that killing
All that fighting, all that hunger
I am mad, I am angry
When the fog lifts
I am going to buy myself a gun
And shoot that fucken dog.

When the dawn breaks
We should all stop lying to ourselves

That everything is going to be all right.

1 comment:

christine wells said...

A very evocative poem, the best kind. Made me feel sad and despairing ��