Damn Condition

This damn condition comes and goes
laying any foundations to my life is impossible
it renders me impotent to aspirations
forces me to live in the present
whilst running up a debt to the future.

I grab wildly at scraps of happiness
with no thought for those it hurts
as long my ego can be massaged
it’s a few moments of relief
where I can hold my head high.

My neck aches from looking over my shoulder
not just at what’s coming
but what I’ve left in my wake
a self esteem in tatters
and a soul not far behind.

Only one thing keeps me going:
one day I held my Grandad’s war pistol to my temple
helped up there by a bottle of Blue Label Smirnoff
when I suddenly had an epiphany:
how uneventful would life be without misery?

Hot Drive

The sun beats down on my aging Citroen
sapping what's left of my spirit
on this goddamn drive to work
to an industrial estate hell
which even Satan would wince at.

The misery is punctuated only by girls

stripped to the bare minimum by the heat

revealing tanned flesh in all its glory

for a moment I forget about my in-tray

until I see my supervisor getting out of her Ford

a carriage straight from the underworld

paid for by misery and spite

and driven on pure arrogance.

I can see her legs

withered, veined and a sickly shade of death

the same fate that awaits my soul

I turn the car round and head home.