always some new test
that golden egg
that gift horses mouth
that silver lining
that meal ticket
that loop hole
something niggling you
voices whispering reasons to be unhappy
nothing is ever enough
too much
too little
they are abstractions
they are marks in pencil on a door frame
they are the strangers who rented this house before you
they are the vague faces who will sleep in this room
when you are gone
if nothing means anything anyway
why the anxiety
why the nerves
why the ruining things as usual
i got this old car
and its being driven with the handbrake ON
needlessly
pointlessly
going round and round the circuit du jour
my ears hurt
my eyes ring
the outside world becomes harder to apprehend
blabbermouths n idiots blow it away
namby pambies and brutes all around
the wrong place
the wrong world
the wrong road round
i just wanted…
i just wanted…
i just wanted…
ah i cant remember what i wanted…
i cant remember the joy but i sure remember the pain
i live outta a suitcase
or in some seedy gaffe
i ride in a bus or a van or a cheap modern car
i furtively smoke dope and finger my calluses
i watch the names of the towns go by
i drive and ride and drive and ride
we lurch to a halt in a dive downtown
inside it smells of beer and some sweet aftershave stink
the roadies are all bored
the music is too loud
the crowd clap n go home
i drink some booze n smoke some more dope
LET IT KILL ME THEN
back to my luxury room with its railyard view
and its construction site which starts up at 8
but thats ok by then i’ll be well away
standing at the queue in subway sandwiches to get my veggie delight
and my bottle water thanks and maybe some crisps
in the van we have an argument over what music to listen to
things turn nasty when a c.d. gets reefed out n defenestrated
i have to listen to the same conversation over n over
as the mobile phones in the van pop on n off
the rain glommed onto the windshield like a viscous jelly
great gusts of wind hammer our van
but we argue on n on
into the grey day speeding away across the great plains
and the back steppes
we pull into some graveyard town where they make memorials
we pull out again and try to find the franchises
starbucks muffins crammed down a gullet
more caffeine
more calories
more dull ache in the coccyx
when i get out for a whizz
the floor seems to go on moving
we arrive late
we leave late
we go on late
and we come off late
tomorrow i’ll get woken up early
by a mistaken knock
or a mistaken ring
or by a mistaken world
trying to find me
and then
it will all happen again