Seven minutes of sun

This thing inside

Will not let me just go

At my own pace

Allow me to wait

And consider the days

Or nights

Like a lost pair of socks 

Unexplainable in their absence 

Weighing on me like the ocean 

On a deep sea diver

And as used to this as I am

It will never make sense 

This thing within me

For so long

Continues to push me outside

Too early

In advance of any need

My timings  

My boxes

My rules 

My law

As I find myself early

Again

Always 

Stood waiting for the train

With 7 minutes to kill

And even that

As small a moment as it is

What a waste of time in itself

I stand in the sun to at least

Try and make it somehow

Worthwhile

Draft

 

My subconscious has taken a beating

It lies bleeding on a rainy side street 

 

But it is not the first time

And so I know we’ll catch up again 

Sooner rather than later

 

In the meantime I am left alone 

With these median memories 

Nothing old 

Nothing new

A haunting 

A distraction

Guilt upon guilt 

Bad choices made with such 

Vigour and self belief 

 

My honesty now much greater 

Than when these images were made 

 

These cliche tonal photographs of

Unlined unloved faces 

Creating magic and running toward raging flame

Displayed on every street I pass

 

Choose…

 

Cake for dinner

I am old now

I have outrun my guilt and so

Drink my tea and wait for my subconscious to 

Catch 

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