The Office 

You might think getting promoted will help things,
but such instances won’t patch over the holes in your heart.

Surrounded by circulars, memos, unread emails,
meetings about something,
half-broken office chairs and pretend filtered tap water.

The oldest man in the nightclub, yet only 35.
Deceived by your grey hair and genetics.
It’s not adding character to you like it did to John Slattery.
Just your luck, schmuck.

Addicted to tramadol for back pain
and red wine like a housewife, yet you’ve no house.

700 a month to share a two-bed kip in Park West,
M50 outside your bedroom window,
a business park outside your living room.

Clogged up and noisy plumbing.
A smorgasbord of the unworthy as neighbours.
A Handmaid’s Tale scenario starting to appeal.

And
the brown stains on the office ceiling tiles above your head grow larger,
albeit slowly, over the years.

Inside, your stained soul soils itself beyond repair.
Even senior management pay of 2k a week can’t set it right.

Now you’re 55 and your dick doesn’t work.
You’re constipated.
Your back aches
even in its 700 quid ergonomic chair.

You had your second colonoscopy in 12 months yesterday.
The same nurse, not recognising you,
tried to ease your mind as she shoved a 12-inch dong up your lubed ass
by asking you to name five towns in Dublin with an “O” at the end.
Knowing the answer, and knowing why the question was asked,
you focus the entirety of your consciousness to your behind
and feel every millimetre as it goes way up into your ass.

The large plastic plant in the corner of your office lives more than you.
The random and anonymous god-awful paintings
that cover all four walls look like vomit.

The broken blinds don’t block out the seldom-shown sun properly.
The carpet’s still a fucking mess
even when they replace everything else.

You have to get corporate on the blower again.
And you the head of fucking corporate.

And all will secretly hate you.
And you’ll have no friends.
No family.

You’re attractive
in the way a free bruised banana is to a junkie.

But your bank balance will be full and hefty.

But your inspiration, youth, and health
gone, gone, gone.
Wasted.
Burned away.

You should have listened to Krishnamurti.
But you corrupted yourself.
For pretend digits on a screen.

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Procrastination

Sitting here in isolation
surrounded by an entire nation
I’m stuck in contemplation
reeling from self-immolation
praying for the equation
that brings back that missed elation
I pretend it’s not procrastination
that keeps me from leaving this station
and facing the realisation
that I am a slave of my own creation.

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The Chancery Inn

Rabble squalid early house smoking area
old man says:
“so the Milky Way and Andromeda will collide
and we'll all die
it’s how you deal with that inside
that’ll get you through the ride
you’ll be here
you’ll be gone
round and round
until that bomb comes along
but now I must leave
cos it’s nine a.m.
and that’s my song!”

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The Journey

Devoid of culture
and devoid of soul,
devoid of caring
for anyone
or the heart I stole.
Devoid of want
and devoid of meaning,
devoid of feeling
and devoid of believing.
I lost it all
and so lost life.
I lost myself
and lost my wife.
I lost love
and lost trust.
I lost hope
and the friend I cursed.
Immersed in self-pity
and immersed in fake glory,
immersed in thoughts
and immersed in fake stories.
Immersed in pain
and immersed in tears,
immersed in insanity
and immersed in beers.
Found in darkness
and found in poor health,
found in sadness
and found wanting death.
Found with pills
and found with a rope,
found with a knife
and found with a cut throat.
I die slowly
and die painfully.
I die bleeding out
and die pitifully.
I die hiding
and as I die
I cry.
I die screaming for her,
and I die
without a reply.

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Day to Day

It’s always coming and going
as I've seen everything do
that feeling of lust
that feeling of triumph
that feeling of love
that feeling of trust
that feeling of hope
all follow the same route.
You could almost grasp it as you felt it
you hold your breath
but it slipped on through
over and back
passed me towards you.

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