Brick Room

I’m sat in the chair I was earlier,

But this time I’m alone.

Paired off voices buzz around my paired off ears,

But my solo mouth remains sealed,

A longing to be opened

By an unseen parted care.

A warmth streams down to a silently well fed,

A fullness that does not sit quietly.

The screams echo in my hollow,

Lips unmatched only to consume.

Star lit lights cut through the emptiness,

Caressing those who care to notice.

I have heard of the aching

And the vastness of an empty table

But I never thought I would be emptier,

Cleared of everything and polished of personality.

I sit emanating a desperate,

I am more than the clothes I wear

Than the unreal piercing stroking facial edifices

Because an identity is not attractive,

My oversized top unattractive

To those others wish I’d attract.

An oil painting of perfection,

Painted until the layers crack

And the awful, undesirable leaks

Onto page and place and people,


And here even that is not enough

Sideways stares and judging murmurs.

‘I am’ is not enough.

Where is the ‘we are’ 

and the ‘you should’

And the ‘you just need?

Where can you make believe

And know your happy ever after 

Is speeding towards you on horseback?

But here


Here emotional barrenness reigns and a 

Strange need for us to be we cuts the us into no one

Until that no one’s gone.

Unseen, in a chair, in a crowded bar.