So. Smile please

So. Smile pleaseSo. Smile please


In shreds

All torn. Left bleak

The frayed edges still

Laid flat like mould

On the corpse of failed hope

So even dreams begin to doubt


The tired man

In the morning aches

For more fluid limbs

Sunshine in the senses

And petrol in the tank

To deny accumulating years


Sounds. Emotional intercourse

All around normal

Cease to spark or lift

This dependant soul

Until in truth

Conscience pricks self-pity


So, praise for humour

When sense takes scissors

To the false preening of vanity

And draws together scraps

Of fabric

That make you whole

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s