Updated: Oct 17, 2018
Flat white.
Sometimes insecurity is a sprinter,
jogging through my mind
aspiring to set the best time
in driving me mad.
And more often
insecurity is a marathon runner.
Grinding its ugly, decaying teeth
and knowing
it will get me, at one point.
Because the trouble is
I don't know how to
pace.
Updated: Oct 25, 2018
Long black.
I see construction workers by my window.
This city needs building
and rebuilding
and adjusting the place
for all the beating, bleeding hearts
and wandering minds
and restless hands
that try to make it a home.
I see these men,
although they don't always see me,
or the people who enjoy
the warmth they create, and the shiny dreams they uphold.
Updated: Oct 15, 2019
Flat white.
Electric fences
all around London.
Just there, beaming,
as if denying the entrance to
the coolest club in town.
But me, I'm a mouse.
I can fool everyone.
I know how to get in,
unnoticed.
Problem is
I rarely know the right time
To abandon ship,
hopes,
long hair,
a direction,
and, most importantly,
youth.
Drop me a line. Will get back to you after I've had my coffee.
