Too Social

This house is too social,

Kitchen constant coffee confessional,

They’re in luck the sun’s pouring in,

I seize the moment retreat within,

Gladioli & hoover in either hand,

March to my bedroom, make amend,

 

Feel so silent, ageing child,

Only clean up when a pretty boy comes round,

Curse my laziness, my lack of technique,

As I suck up sea-shells once romantically plucked

 

Swallowed accidentally,

By this tired, failing land-lord’s machine,

Knit-wear folded behind closed doors,

Lamps will improve woodchip on the walls

 

I was once spoilt by you,

I ramble with something to prove 

 

Preparing for love, 

Preparing for lust,

Repairing for love,

Preparing 

 

Woke up with bruises on my legs,

Bad circulation, that’s what he said

 

It’s all broken life can be a bitch,

When you’re running on old, upheld promises,

You are there, but are you here?

Like a saint might you re-appear

 

You are there but are you here,

Like a saint might you appear, 

There you are,

But are you here,

Like a saint might you appear?

 

This life is too social,

House a crowded confessional,

We’re in luck, the sun pours in, 

I seize the moment retreat within

 

Preparing for love, 

Preparing for lust,

Repairing for love,

Preparing