Lippy Kids

I'm bored of thinking of something to say in rooms full of unspoken words and hidden thoughts.

The fakery has disappeared in a mess of alcohol and holding sobbing bodies in darkened rooms, hiding them away and listening to the stream of broken record thoughts again and again. The warmth of each other in the midst of the struggle but the conflicts and the seeping anger biting through the bullshit and the ridiculousness of the overdramatic. The kind words of friendship growing unimportant in the wind and tears and complications that litter the city that once we controlled, but no longer kings we live under the towering landscape that swallows us up with all the other noises. In between the buses speeding past and the birdsong and digital cries of clubs, the whispers of fragility are lost until everyone screams silently to themselves. Maybe then we'll make sense.

Giving in and giving up because the gravity of others' needs is tearing apart the weight of what's important, and stamping it into the ground under the feet of the seemless masses that huddle in the filthy streets like a confused crowd at a gig, and things are about to kick off. Everything you knew is changing, but this time unexpectedly and what was your hold, your handlebars, has gone.

At The River

I miss your breakfasts. Warm croissants and raspberry jam with orange juice (NEVER from concentrate, god forbid) with bits in, proper coffee and white plates with red and orange round the edge. Radio 4 when it's being put together, and then finally, as we sit at the wooden table on white seats that aren't as white as they used to be, Radio 3 and Brahms and Chopin. Never ever Classic FM (That's just for plebs darling). The four of us, and the Saturday paper (Guardian of course. We're all Labour and Lib Dem round these parts. Middle classes enjoying the frivolity of it all). He takes the news, and she takes culture. Ben has the Guide and I take the magazine, pretending to care about it more than I do, not really reading anything unless it involves full picture pages and a comedian. And it's all frightfully civilised and we tut together at the greed of bankers and laugh at the idiocy of politicians and some Radio 3 presenter introduces another piece and we listen and shake our heads as some fools in a concert hall clap between movements (the horror, the horror of it all). The sun shines through the huge windows and the ducks sit on the dock waiting for some five year old to shower them with breadcrumbs. Ben'll talk about a gig or a band and he'll pretend to know who that is, and then, when all the coffee's gone and i'm bored of pretending to read the magazine we'll disappear off into the house or the city and ignore each other until dinner. And the pastry flakes will fall on the floor and the jam will stick to the plates and the coffee grounds will clog up the sink and the buzz from the radio will give us all headaches but it doesn't matter, because this is the civilised way to do things, and eating cereal on our laps at 3 in the afternoon with a crushing hangover just isn't quite cricket.

Silent Sigh

Another night fades to day in between the greys of the unconcerned mind.

A town that's always lying but only in the city, never in the suburbs.

The cold touch of a could-have been life whistles past in the dark.

As they stagger through the true streets of the plastic city built by robots.

And as she tugs down the sleeves to cover endless dreams they lie together in the emptiness of humanity.

But the stars are long gone and the hearts are not strong enough for the lives they had.

GET OVER YOURSELF

Quiet days as I watch night outs pass me by in a blur of cheap vodka and card games. I am too tired for this.

Watching as butts from angry cigarettes smoked in self hatred pile up below my window, littering the grass and ruining it.

Drinking with care and watching every sip, because too much alcohol fills me up and spills over with my secrets to everyone I know.

Listening to everyone else's problems- an agony aunt filled with desperate pleas from others so they block my own.

And the grip is dragging me down and everything is tightening because this lady isn't working with her soft voice and patronising stare. But it's just me who's not making it work. I'm not trying hard enough. She thinks it's all because I went to an all girls school. Asking the wrong questions.

Vanishing acts into my own mind don't work and this constant internal battling of voices is tiring me but she wants me to carry on. And even this is a fight, just words on a screen but it's too much and it's too self involved. Don't bother with this.

People back home who say they care but it's not true. All lies because I know who I am and I know what I am like.

Nothing like you

I love you so much.

You know who you are.

I wish I was as strong as you, and more than anything I wish I could have been there for you like you're there for me now, if only I knew you as well then. You have given me more then I could ever deserve. And you help me so much and I miss you so much. Tonight, you were exactly what I needed. Right now i'm sending a million telepathic hugs your way.

And i'm glad things have a name now. You made me see this.

Rebellion (Lies)

Fuck. I fucking fucked it up again. When it was going so well. And it's unjustifiable. It's not like it's anything new... just the same old crap but i just watch myself fuck up over and over like everyone else because we're only human but it's wrong for me.

I want to get off my head. I want to sit on the floor in a heap. I want to hide and run and scream. I want to forget all the shit that's happened and I want to to forget the present as I'm ruining it.

Maybe alcohol will help. It usually does.

A waste of paint

You know, we've seen it all before. It's nothing new.

The words 'typical adolescent behaviour' are used.

This is not helping.

You're an intelligent girl, surely you can see this isn't a good way to think?

I am not intelligent. I cannot think.

Is that why you do drama?

No.

What do you want?

I want things to change.

(They exchange a smile)

You think things will suddenly be better? (More smiles)

No.

They call me intelligent but they patronise me.

More questions.

Do you watch Eastenders?

No.

Oh.

Silence.

Then- Do you have any friends?

I cannot do this.

Tell us about them.

I am sitting here and I am thinking do they really believe I have friends or do they think I make them up? I am sitting here and I am thinking they are judging me. I am sitting here and I am thinking I shouldn't be here. I am a waste of their time.

Do you see them as good people?

Yes.

Do you see yourself as a good person?

More silence.

Let me rephrase that. Do you see yourself as a bad person?

How do you define good and bad? Surely that's subjective?

(They smile at each other again)

Leaving the philosophy aside for a minute.

Yes.

Yes what?

Yes I do.

(They nod)

But other people aren't? Friends, family?

Yes. I have already told them this. I am repeating the same things.

They try and compliment me again.

I pretend to accept it.

Are you responsible for other peoples' happiness or feelings?

By now they know what my answer will be. It's obvious. But I justify, and they agree, but still tell me I am wrong. I know I am wrong.

What you have to understand is that it's not rational to think in this way. Look at it objectively. When things are hard remove yourself from the situation and examine it.

Objective thinking. That's the solution to everything then.

Let's talk about your childhood.

Freud 101.

It's okay to cry you know. We have tissues.

I don't want to cry. I don't cry. They still watch me.

They have tissues.

This was a mistake.

We can't really do anything.

I knew this would happen.

Because you're going away so soon.

I am reverting back already, and my head is no longer clear.

And we need continued contact.

I see what they are really saying. My problems are not good enough. I am not good enough.

I leave.

My last option. My mistake. My fault.