The Mighty Catfish.

The mighty catfish sunk to the floor

It sunk so far it could go no more

And then one day it saw the light

Saw the light and decided to fight.

It raised one whisker up from the sea bed

Raised it way, way above it’s head.

It said, “Hey World, I think it’s time

To stand up and to take what’s mine!”

And sooner or later it was flying high

Flying high in the media industry up in the sky.

Dirty, filthy.

I can’t come if you tell me to. Something about the words makes it filthy and I’m transported. Girls are flashing their assholes and biting their lips somewhere and I’m dry as a corpse now.

There was a time I wanted to have a baby with you until the assholes, and the lip biting, and the blowjob history, and the trust smashed in like a corner shop window, midwinter.

Don’t you know I’m not present. I’m no present for anyone. I’m a bored housewife without the house or the wife part. Waiting for the postman to ring the door bell and sort me out. Send in that long-awaited rush of blood. Give me a hit. Pull me apart, shine up the rust, and put me back together.

I looked at your iPad internet history. 

We don’t gravitate toward each other anymore in the middle of the bed. 

It feels like rather than have sex with me sometimes you’d prefer that I were dead.

Things have gotten really strange now I know you’re watching porn.

It’s made me question everything I’ve known about women since I was born. 

Instead of getting my back you’ve got your own anxieties at heart

A ‘grass is greener’ new generation relationship you’ve got down to an art. 

Every need is catered for, you just have to fill the gap, but what you fill it with is the instant gratification trap.

I don’t know if I can do this anymore. 

Ben.

He unbuttoned the top button of my shirt and pushed me down into the seat of the chair. I didn’t know what was about to happen. I didn’t care. Categorically speaking I was a non-mover. Perhaps I mean in terms of where I was going in my life, but more likely I mean physically at that moment. In that moment, when he looked me directly in the eyes, he glared into my increasingly small yet almond-shaped eyes, and he said, “you are like no one I’ve ever met before”. Immediately, and without true consent from the reasonable-side of my brain, I calmly said, “you are like every other person on the planet and this is why I feel safe with you”. There was no show to put on. No Facade. It felt empty. I had come looking for him, and this emptiness meant he was now looking for me. I tried not to think too much about this sunken feeling and how ordinary he was as he undid the rest of the buttons on my shirt.