Sunday, October 25, 2015

1 morning w/ you

The disorder of the fluffy clouds
And the crumbs scattered on the kitchen top
The curtains rumpled
And the prints on the floor
                     My clammy feet are making

Untidy messes

Starting with the bed

The sheets wet,  stinking of sweat
                  And sex

You naked
Cigarette smouldering in your mouth
As you open the window
And lean out
Observing your Kingdom

It ends abruptly
A ring tone howling
A phone call and your concerns are elsewhere

Am I merely travelling the rainbow
Will there be a pot of gold

And I feel  -lonely
Anticipating the weekend
I will keep busy
But it will be empty
As I search
Outside the window
For people
Lives,  culture,  colour,  life

Flick open the magazine
Try not to overhear what it is
Who it is
That has called

The glossy pages
Breasts exposed
And legs apart
A simple theme
She,  without flaws,  and an adopted name
Sleek cats of many varieties

I peel back the silver foil
Balancing the magazine on my knees
Chocolate scrapes underneath my fingernails
Feel bad,  guilty
Will this chocolate add fat
To my stomach
My upper arms,  are they looking chunky
Maybe the chocolate is appearing there
Building the fat
Like a temple
So every stone I gain Is in the wobble of my flesh
At every step I take
I will be reminded of everything I have eaten
I will be the walking advertisement to my own diet
I will be ashamed

No sooner have you finished the call
Your phone begins to rings again

I can support you
Let me show you
If you let me I can

My lips are sore
Neck marked by the bite of your teeth
Two more weeks
And this is all there will be left
Memories to stir emotions

I will masturbate to this later.

--Katie Lewington

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