I am listening to the bray of my heart and I am,
I am, ok.
I am eating breakfast as if it were my last and not feeling the slightest bit elated.
I am a man in baggy black workwear on the tube annihilating a bag of family sized popcorn
I am listening to your words and wishing I could adhere
I am living my days to the fullest and hoping
I am waiting for a train that hopefully will never turn up
I am wondering if it’s possible I will feel this way forever, and if so, I am feeling hopeless.
I am staring at your smug pouting mouth and knee highs whilst wishing you adversity; unfortunately
I am wishing ill upon all as I reach three-day-hangover territory.
I am wishing I hadn’t seen you today using the tone that only I can stop you employing.
I am staring into space and asking myself repeatedly, what am I going to do now?
I am still the reindeer stood coyly at the buffet table.
I am trying.