SUMMERS END PT2

in the dearth of purpose

of summers end

the sun sets wild & orange
on the rippled aluminium

of warehouses

& showrooms

& incognito cannabis farms

& workers in autumn shorts
with clipboard hands

& pda pockets
rush a smoke or a vape

on the loading bays concrete aprons

of chevrons & cracks

& shadows too long

surely too long

for half past four

in the afternoon

i pull the blinds

in the vacant unit

& curl up in my clothes
on the office furniture

resting

between heists

POINTLESS SECRETS

blank events survive
on
my
flat calendar
but
the Vibes
the Meanings
the Feelings
are
bleached to nothings by oceans of gin
and
the
what-the-fuck mornings
of
shark-eyes bunny-scared on the bus
and
staring inside
hiding behind
mean humour
in
the warehouses of youth and wages

well-fed fear
drove reckless
in
the
front seat

and
i 
kept 
pointless secrets - secrets make Hell

and
they
ate at my strangled guts from below

while i waited 
hoping for age
to
loosen
everything

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