Stacking Shelves

I’m bored of the minutes

Time shooting fast bullets

Some I miss

 

I think of the glory

Fighting for a flag

While my every move is anticipated

By other men

Like pawns on a chessfield

But surely getting shot

Is better than stacking shelves

 

Used and tossed away

With a pittance

Locked up in some retirement home

At the age of 40

 

But surely it’s better than stacking shelves

 

 

Fading Lights

I’m lost in a fog of doubt

I’m on good terms with everyone

But I’m friends with no one

I know how to act

And how to be

I know what to do and to say

But I’m losing the light inside

The more it fades

The more desperate I try to grab it

But you can’t possess light

It’s just there or it’s not

A Very Short Story

The words of the email began mulling around in my brain. There’s never much going on there anyhow so they don’t colide with much. Just bouncing on the walls of my skull. Echoes in the empty chamber. “We regret to inform you but due to budget reasons, we will have to end your contract. If you have any disagreements or anything you would like to say or if you would like to take this further as a tribunal please contact us with the number present in this email. We’d like to thank you for your service over these many years! Please deliver your work uniform to the present address in this email. You will be reimbursed for delivery costs. Cheers.”

So that was it. After twenty one years of working it’s come to this. All those hours I put in. All that overtime I took. All that commitment. All those managers I kissed up to. The occasions I missed to get promotions. Should I say “attempt to get” rather.

I suppose that’s it. Not much else I can do now really. I wonder how things are looking in the pension pot?

Late Night Aspirations

Idea after idea

The golds flowing down the canals in my brain

Through the cracks and turns

Screaming hot, but flowing

Wincing but I guess it feels good

Until its rivers dry up

Then the pain grips me

The steam bursts through the geysers in my head

With it, all my ideas

Just stinging dryness

Until I wait for the next river of gold

Drunk Poem

I lose a little bit of my soul

Everytime I listen to it

Everytime it makes me feel something

The past tears away a part of me

Claims it forever

And I can never touch it again

The blank emotions watch

Trying to remember what it was like to feel

Because honest to God I don’t remember

It starts to worry me

So I try not to listen to the music I used to

To keep the fading feelings safe, locked up

 

I think I never truly felt anything

That I forced it

To match the music of this world

The rhythm