Every Day in the Office

This office surrounds me with mediocrity

conversations are banal at best

I sink into my chair and try to fight the boredom

I take on some filing and lose

I look out the window at the office across the road

see endless reflections of myself

soul after soul at similar desks

clutching on to nothing

they never dreamt of this as a kid

a gang of three boys and a girl go past

they’re carrying crates of beer

lucky, young, free bastards

that girl will be crying by the end of the day

even the best male friend can break a girl's heart

the girls in this office are full of anxiety

all think they’re too fat

I’d fuck every single one of them

apart from the bitch of a boss

I do have some morals

lunchtime comes and there’s a stay of execution

there’s nowhere to go except the supermarket

the trolley collectors look blissfully happy

who argues with you over a trolley?

I sit in my car and eat my sandwiches

I’m surrounded by doppelgangers

all wondering where it went wrong

brushing the crumbs from their seats

I get back to the office

those damn kids are probably drunk now

that girl’s discovering what lies ahead from men

I’m sorting out the photocopier

I win the heartbreak stakes by a shade.

The Creep

I sat in the empty carriage of a late night train
fighting against the drink to stay awake
the world was flying by outside
but I appeared to be going nowhere
trapped in the present
no company but for a flickering light
compared to some relationships it was heaven
then the creep walked in
he had the hair of a newborn
but the wrinkles and desperation of experience
he sat down opposite me
I made a point at looking at the empty seats around us

“Where you heading to, young man?” he asked
“There’s only one stop.” I fired back
“I meant after that.
“The bridge.”
“The bridge?”
“Yeah the bridge by the station. I live under it”

the creep looked concerned
I noticed dried spittle in the corner of his mouth
probably caused by medication

“On a night like this?! No, I insist you come back to mine. It’s real warm.” he offered.

I began to wonder if it was just dried spittle

“Do you like jazz?” he asked

I do like jazz as a matter of fact

“It’s not bad” I said vaguely

he began reeling off names of musicians I’d never heard of

“Never heard of them” I replied
“Well come back to mine and I’ll educate you” he suggested

I ignored him and his offer of tutoring

“I’ve got good wine. It’s come all the way from France” he explained.

I looked out the window
the train was passing a small town
everyone there was probably asleep
lucky bastards
I noticed the creep wasn’t wearing a coat
just a tatty, tanned shirt and some ill-fitting trousers
it was November
some time passed

“You ever been curious about men?” he finally asked
“Only when they’re staring at my girlfriend.” I answered

I noticed some fear in his eyes 
he didn’t have many years left
but he wasn’t ready to go
not whilst there was so much to take.

“I bet you’ve got the perfect helmet.” he guessed

He was right
nice shape with a real smooth finish.

“Look, I’m tired, old man. But if you go two carriages that way, there’s a boy in there. Real curious. Has a saxophone with him too. Very jazzy.” I lied

the old man stood up and looked up the carriages
he stroked his chin
some of the dried spittle (or worse) flaked off

“But I didn’t see anyone. I looked. I looked in all the carriages…” he pondered
“He was asleep when I saw him. Slumped down. Easily missed” I replied
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute. Wait right here”

he eagerly shuffled out of the carriage
I got up and went two carriages down in the opposite direction
eventually the creep returned
he looked angry

“Why did you lie to me?! I thought we were friends!” he bellowed
“He’s gone? Are you sure? Maybe he got off at the last station?” I said
“There’s only one stop. You know that! You fucking know that!”

the poor fucker began to cry
He really wanted to devour me
or anyone, to be honest
he wanted to suck the very marrow from the bones of my soul
just like me and any girl I’ve ever met
we weren’t that different really
tears trickled down his face
they followed the crazy roadmap of broken capillaries covering his skin
each one told a story of how the creep had given up on shame a long time ago
he held up his shaking, pleading hands

“The cancer took away my erections! It doesn’t mean I don’t get turned on” he screamed

is this really all we have to look forward to?
Desperation?
Disease?
Impotence?
I let out a long deep sigh.

“You give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you under the bridge at the station.” I offered.
“Oh yes, young man! I’ll pop to the shop and get some wine! I know a shop nearby! They’re very discrete!” he triumphantly bellowed.

The train stopped and we both got off

“Ten minutes. No later. And no kissing.” I warned.

The creep hurried off
stumbling as he went
I got in a taxi and went straight to my girlfriend’s
she had everything I wanted
that poor son of a bitch is probably still waiting under the bridge
getting older and older.

Forgotten Woman

She is the forgotten woman stranded on the sexual sidelines her demeanour keeps her there crafted by bitchiness and bullying it stops her feeling human the only release is to pleasure herself dreaming of what it’s like to let go to feel a writhing, twisting body on top filling her with passion passion she longs to reciprocate if only society would accept her just for one day as a living, breathing, horny being she’d overcome that hurdle of doubt be able to tell men to fuck her like every woman should bring life to her soul instead of tears to her eyes she needs to deny her design for life stop masturbating let the frustration begin to kill her then snare a man any man they’re all easy then this tragedy will end and many more will begin.

Would be lovers

Here we are, young would be lovers
between underground platforms
the smell of brake dust heavy in the air
busy footsteps of the city long faded into silence
even with the fluorescent lighting revealing her flaws
she’s the most beautiful girl I’ll ever meet
it’s as if she’s been plucked from my subconscious
to satisfy every urge I’ve ever had
there’s hesitation in our eyes
hearts wrestling with guilt
trying to forget about faithful lovers back at home
but resisting this carnal passion would be a crime
our tongues entwine
hands run up and down each others bodies
a dress rehearsal of what’s to come
we break off to an awkward silence
her boyfriend weighing heavy upon her mind
for once in her life she has no answers
she desperately looks in my eyes for guidance
sees nothing but tears in the morning
I finally get a glimpse of her true soul
it’s straining at the seams as we depart
her southbound
me northbound.

End of a Friendship

Masculinity's breathing down my neck
no man wants to be a girl's best friend
only their best fuck
that's why I've cut our friendship
she can't acknowledge my y chromosome
this blindness makes me angry
makes a mockery of my arrogance
she's bawling in my face for answers
the drink always did loosen her emotions
I cut through my lust and turn vicious
blame all the shortcomings on her
the trust I once bestowed in her eyes has gone
replaced by fear and sorrow
she tries to hug me
but I've got to prove I'm a man
I push her away
smash my glass into the bar
the last vestiges of bourbon slip from the shards
trickle onto the dirty floor
and evaporate
just like our friendship.