felt alert at half six this morning
but on the bus to consett so lethargic
no simile, no metaphor
for the greyness up above
I write this out of duty not love
this vehicle throbs like a demented washing machine
and try as I might, I just can't get comfortable
don't want to be anywhere today
except in the midst of a morning sleep
later a chuckle at the metro paper
with a picture of the zombie film poster
plastered on the corner by the funeral parlour
opposite the flowerbeds once grinded by a skateboarder
who now spends his fourth decade
pretending he's still twenty eight
better still a pristine seventeen
going to gigs enjoying the alternative scene
not a study in post-adolescent atrophy
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