
Blue Monday?

I don't write. I create.
I love you.
At all the rats in the sewers, if it helps you to reflect on how much of a dick you are.
She forced him to sell his cock, to people who were willing to pay for 2 inches.
I’ve paused for 29 minutes.
Lingering around, thinking.
Plotting.
Narrative!
At my door in December.
I opened up and coughed on em’
Fucking viruses.
I’m sitting in a BMW i8.
It’s black with electric blue around the wheels and the headlights.
The seats are leather and heated, my ass is warm.
I’m sipping a cup of hot-chocolate made with oat milk. Cows milk is for baby cows.
All windows are up, I hate the sounds of those grotty voices nearby.
Does it look like my car needs cleaning?
Only me and I’m stuck.
Is there ever traffic at 0333 hours?
I’m not moving.
Engulfed in thought processes.
Delinquent of 70% responsibilities.
I’m not a passenger.
I’m not a red light.
I’m not another car in a queue.
I’m not even there.
Once last night.
You failed to answer.
I deleted your number.
You called a few months later…in need of my power.
I sent a potato emoji and told you I love eating chips.
verbpast tense: permeated; past participle: permeated
I’m here for you and only you.
Buzzed around during our third kiss.
It was all an act for you, my dream of lust and bliss.
I’m trying to sleep.
Rides with you.
Firm seating.
Up and down.
Me and Dave the Mechanic from Byron Bay.
Be there for you.
You are.
Always will be.
No growth.
False sense of achievement.
Multiplied by two.
Fell upon my knees and froze my movements, forever.
A joke.
Stuffed.