BREAKDOWNS REALLY

saturday night london basement

escaped mothers dance like strippers with staring fakesters

and me

i’m moody drunk and high

staring down at the kickers and box fresh converse

some nobody saying

IT AINT ALL BAD YOU KNOW

to my dead face of whisky misery-thunder

and

then

cab rolls us south in silence

and it is like magnets – our hands

i can’t not – tho i shouldnt

and its ok - i think i am helping you

and anyway we’re all having breakdowns really

and then we’re drinking more

under the heathrow flight paths

and you fall asleep on me

i got one arm to drink with – reach for the valium with

and i wake you at dawn

for drunkards breakfast

of

coffee

unfinished toast

cigarettes

and

i leave with no job and half the bus fare

and really i wasn’t helping at all

cos

we’re

all

having breakdowns really

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