I think that’s one litre too far
Of the infamous magical potion
Housed in the caves of the Spar
In exchange for credits I don’t have
Oh magical fluids grant me strength
To ignore anxieties and mistrust
She’ll be hanging around tonight
A beacon to my bug eyes
She was round here yesterday
Pillaging my passions
Placed her vicegrip on my throat
Conducted Electricity
With the iLoins charged
She’s off and out the door
Was I due a message in a bottle?
I don’t think I quite know anymore
Always a Tic Tac
Never the Sunday roast
From cute smiles
To vacant stares
From Admiration
To Deconstruction
From holding my hand
To shoving me away
From laughing at my jokes
To laughing in my face
Always a Little Chef
Never the Harvester
Last night; took me round the bend
Just to avoid association
She treats me like a joint
Smoke it before the teachers come
Now tonight; hides herself at the bend
Just to avoid conversation
She treats me like a mother
Don’t embarrass while she’s with her mates
Always the grab of the shaft in the car park
Never the drunken fuck in a hotel suite
They never cared
They’ll never care
It’s always like this
It’ll never be like that
They never cared
They’ll never care
It’s always like this
It’ll never be like that
*Written For National Poetry Month – 19/30*
Domestic Poetry 