Alibi

We like to think we're
fun without it,
But we aren't,
although we try.
But the poison
calms our nerves.
It lets us love.
It lets us lie.

And every bitter swallow gives
a golden alibi.

Deathcalator

A small brown moth, mottled and muted,
sat in the crevice of an escalator step.
I almost didn't see him. I wish I hadn't;
I was deeply saddened by his imminent death.
Fragile little leaf against cold steel,
heading for doom.

I know how you feel.

London Ey-Yeh

A man approached us today outside the Table Tennis arena. He was foreign, although I couldn't quite discern where from. He asked us a question. We answered. Then we asked him if he was enjoying his time in London. Oh yes, he said. I've seen Big Ben, he said. Big Ben, Buckingham Palace. London ey-yeh.

London Ey-yeh? 

Ey--yeh. 

Ey-yeh?

Eyyyyyy-yeeh. You know, big wheel. 

OH! London Eye!

Ah yes. London aaiiiii.

After he left, we looked at each other, and one of us said, you have lovely ey-yesssss! and, tired from a long day of being extremely nice to hoards of flag-bearing, stupid-question-asking visitors, we all doubled over in illicit, politically incorrect, hysterical mirth. 

For the rest of the shift, all we needed to get us going again was ey-yeh.

Sorry! I have something in my ey-yeh! 

I've got my ey-yeh on you!

Ey-yeh.

Glass Bottom

Sometimes you can look forward to something so much, and for so long, that you don't want it to actually happen. You stop wanting it to come quicker. You want the days to drag out, the hours to crawl, the seconds to slither at snail's pace. Because the quicker it comes the quicker it will be over. The first sip of a cold beverage is bliss; but as you drink deeper, each gulp brings you closer to an empty glass. But that's just what life is. Such an attitude is pointless, painful. You just have to savour it all the more, in the knowledge that it will come to an end.

iHateyou

If my iPhone was

a human being I would

punch him in the face.

Over the Lazy Dog

From periphery you dash,
rather queer-shaped,
for a cat.
Your gait too ragged,
coat too rugged,
tail too thick for that.

You are a dirty dog,
you are a wolf without
a pack.

Dark firelight drained from
rusty lamps and caught
your rusty back.

Then you scampered into shadow;

and your tattered form
collapsed,
into black.

Silence

My iPod broke a long time ago.

So I stopped listening to music.

I walked to lectures in silence, waited for buses in silence, spent long train journeys in rhythmic, rattling silence.

I ran in silence.

Unaccustomed to silence, my mind made up for it.

By thinking.

By composing its own thoughtful music. Talking things over. Thinking things through. Making suggestions, asking questions, rolling absurdities around, tonguing them like cherry stones. Digging up images like boxes of old photos, flicking through them, making collages, making montages. Igniting old feelings, touching nerves. Causing pain. Wringing itself out and letting the cold juices of self-loathing sink down my spine. Making itself smile. Making itself laugh. Writing itself love letters, penning adventures, misadventures, spinning out dreams like an old lady at a loom. Losing itself.

Then I got an iPhone and some new headphones.

My silent bus journeys were suddenly filled with glorious sound, my walks to work alive with the sound of music. My runs more escapist; no longer could I even hear my heartbeat, my footsteps, my ragged breath. Putting headphones on is like opening a beloved, enthralling book. Nothing bothers me. I am in my own world of lovely music. I feel wholesome and free.

But when I try to write I suddenly realise I have nothing to write about. Nothing. My mind, tired from thankless work and a long commute, lulled by soothing, soporific sounds, has nothing to say for itself. It didn't need to. It wasn't made to entertain itself. It just sat and listened. It didn't have to think. And so it thought about nothing, and no ideas were spawned, no memories resurfaced, no dreams were woven. No new connections were made. It just bathed lazily in beautiful music. 

Now, music is wonderful, moving, magnificent, and vital for the soul. I missed it. I am thrilled to have it back.

But there is a lot to be said, it seems, for silence.