A Buh-Buh-Bored Boy

It always goes this way
2 stops from the station it goes this way
If not chasing the shadows of my losses
It’s trying to steal that which I haven’t earned
Yeah the closer I get, it always goes this way
9,000 years in the future and I’ll still be a brat

I’ll take any version of it making the rounds
Even if it’s by candle light to a brick wall
As I make a deceleration of a wordplay and poetry
To the reception of a single word review
Illuminated against the stars that have bothered to turn up
Don’t take it hard, just how things are
But an opportunity born from archaic rubble that be
Cos I can’t be fucked with the small talk either hunny

Fuck the colloquialism, designed to disguise
And fuck worshipping love like a religion
I just need a reason to live tonight baby
Like a spoonful of sugar, ain’t nothing wrong with enjoying it
Feed me any myth you want, I’ll swallow it down everytime
Like the house cocktail, I’ll down any shit you give me

I’ll take the first volunteer, cos I’m empty
Not like a man facing the knifes edge
But like a forgotten colouring book, down memory lane
I have no purpose without any input
By which way will my personality progress?
That’s down to you baby, and the shot you fling my way
I wouldn’t christen it desperation personally
That implies I haven’t survived colourless all this time
But god I’m so fucking impatient
Cos I’ve been stuck on chapter 3 for 9 novels straight

So please help me turn the page

Lnc0

Safe To Say I’m Cynical (W.I.P)

Live to survive
Never feels good, never felt glamorous
I feel like a sidekick in someone else’s novel
Who failed to show up on shoot day
I dunno where I should be
Seems like I ended up here

Still here, with you nestled in my arms
Thriving in the soil we made
I dunno where we could’ve gone
I just know we’re here
To shit scared to step into the crosshairs
To risk even a scratch of harm
A Friday night all alone
Viewed like a rapture from sinner’s eyes
Self imposed curfew, self mutilating schedule
We were born for more then this, but it ain’t worth it

Our mouths always feel a little parched
No matter what it is we’re fed
The tannoy’s blaring caution in the background
But maybe together, we can dismiss it

Lnc0

Theivin’

I still remember the first job we ever did together
It was smack dap in the middle of May

We were gorging on the successes
Of telling our employers cleverly fabricated fables
Which told tales of the valiant bout of our immune systems
Succumbing to the intent of the flu invaders

We stopped by the local pub to relive the true illness
One that has taken captive of our warmth and affection
A 9 to 5 shift at the local call centre just to get by

The look of boredom on your face cut right through me
My promises of a 3-star Chinese takeaway
As a cuisine to the début of the new series of Big Brother
No longer lights any passion inside of you
As if possessed by your intent I got up from my stool
And grabbed a box of crisps from behind the bar and gave you a wink

The clang of the bells run through my spine
It brings my hairs to a rigid salute
It gives me shivers, charging every joint in my body
And a grin to my face, the first one I’ve felt in ages
As we dash to the nearest alleyway for refuge
Illuminated by the red and blue

It was never about the heist, It was never about the loot
It was that thrill of getting away with you
Slamming the front door behind us, so hard the frames shook
Slumping down the other end like the sweat on our brows
Pumping more oxygen through our bodies in a single day
Then we ever have in a year of back to back TV nights in
Eating the monster munch we stole from The Goat and Boot
Somehow made the X-factor finals more tolerable that night

And now here we are years later, sitting on Ikea summer deals
Keeping our obedient eyes on ITV around half 5
We might as well be dead as flies take hostage in our mouths
Oh hubby can’t it be as it was before?
The thrill of dodging a 3 month sentence
While toting a basket of paninis we won’t even eat

I hear your pleas loud and clear
As we fade away into the leather of our seats
So the next time we went on our monthly trail
A silent 20 minute torture down to the big Tescos
I’ll grab a box containing latest Furbbie toy from the shelf
And I’ll throw a wink your way to confirm your suspicions
And you’ll start to vibrate up and down with excitement
As we both start heading towards the door

I wouldn’t take a penny without you there
I wouldn’t scrump a crumb If your not around
It’s the only thing we had in common
It’s the only way to stop feeling so sullen

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

A Man May Have Died, But At Least This Conversation Hasn’t‏

Oh dreary, eerie me the fun and laughter’s has come to an end
Someone’s gone done a murder and a shanking
It sends a shiver down the stay at home mothers spine’s
Suddenly the walk down to Morrison is fraught with fright
People hiding in the trees, Cars stalking too close to the sidewalk
Kids coughing sends your heart rate into a critical state!

But your not the kind of thrive on controversy
But you can’t help but notice
This is the closest you’ve felt with your nursery friends
The walk home is filled with half baked theories
And exaggerated hearsay from the local publications
Like telling ghost stories under the moonlight

“Oh maybe it was the hoddies
I think it was the squaddies
I know for a fact it’s them Albanians
See? I told you this is what would happen!”

Walking your kid home has never been so lively

You’re not the heartless type that’s for sure!
But you can’t help but feel relief
When the pot holes of silence that would creep in along
When the gossip and slander would fall short
During a natter with Maggie down the laundrette
Are filled slowly with your fabricated updates

“Jenny though she saw someone hanging around
Michael swore he heard someone in the pub saying they did it
Sally heard the council are trying to cover it up
George still insists it was the Albanians”

Suddenly living with a husband you hate
And taking care of the kid you resent
Seemed a little less maddening that day

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0

An Attempt With The Dating Scene In Colchester

I’m really interested in hearing about your favourite TOWIE moment
I’m really interested in hearing about how much you hate your manager
I’m really interested in hearing about your unique reasons
Of why the latest American Hollywood series is ‘tops’

I didn’t think you’ve heard off any activities to get your heart burning
I didn’t think you’ve heard off any song to evoke a feeling inside
I didn’t think you’ve heard off anything to catch your interests
Outside of reality show tidbits to fill the silence at the water cooler

Of course you look lovely tonight
Of course you look pretty tonight
Of course you look gorgeous tonight
Cos’ you all look so similar

What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
I can’t say I spotted one

Sulking all on your own
Leaning by your skull
On the promotional material
For NVQ 1 graduates in Albeton live

Seeing all the chickens in this coop
Clucking the same old meme’s
Bragging about taking the same old drugs
But look at them leaning on each others chests
Yeah, must be nice…

There’s no point in fighting fate
In fighting the inevitable
There’s no migrating with the herd
No integrating with the school

And if you could take back
A pretty young thing back to your pad
Would it be worth the taxi fare
If conversation dies after you offer a cup of tea
The next morning

*For National Poetry Month – 3/30*

An Ode To a Beached Whale

Taking cover within the wingspan of your lilac felt curtains
As beams of the day pass by the cracks in your cheeks
Consuming oxygen for the noble act of nothing
Since you lack the resources to rise

You bat away the tickles on your chin
As the claws of the unknowing trace a pattern on your face
Imagining all the feats you could’ve achieved
If only you had all these things that don’t exist

As if guided by strings, you make your contributions
At the foot of a paper thin democracy
You can’t find any thing to get your heart racing
To widen your eyes and get sweat on your palms

I know you’d lack the cells in your cranium
To mistake a 40 quid debt of forgotten memories
Of teardrops and routine mishaps to recite the next day
As even a ripple in the flow of your life

Just crawl back to the womb of your mattress
Every second sober to you is a second bored
You’ve lost your ability to see the beauty
Of the spells people create with their fingertips everyday

How could anyone be so bored?
How could anyone be so boring?
If you can’t see things my way
Then crawl back to that wingspan till you die
Your kind are a tax on life itself