Here’s something many people in overtiring circumstances might find particularly relatable–though each in their own way.
We found it to be a friend.
Enjoy.
___
The day before work
All of a sudden the air becomes thin
And the glee of jumping out of work on Friday like a drunken chimpanzee is gone
Instead the day becomes heavy…
Weighed down in disbelief that the minutes are ticking faster and faster
“Surely it’s not already twenty past three”
Then the evening falls, like a Transylvanian night
The gargoyles and wolves howling as you are passed your last rights
David you will have to go to bed some time tonight.
Rocking to and fro in your captive’s bed
Starting at the clock till your eyes turn red…
Then you wake up like a coiled spring
Bounce down the street
Surprised to see that there is no one on your streets
Only to see it’s only
Twenty past three… AM
“Shit”
___
Born 1964, (Liverpool, England) to a difficult birth, David didn’t find his voice until his youth. After years of thinking he was nobody and being treated as such–Including a period of homelessness in the desperate Thatcher Years–he hit the paper papering over the scars.
David found understanding and belief through words, and he has been published and performed widely from the BBC to The Tate, as well as in galleries, pubs, and everything in between.
His poems are autobiographical, others topical, and several his take on life.