Something Soft

I wished for something soft on the harsh windswept streets of my hometown.

What I got was something that squirmed and became hard when I was soft

In my hometown, I went on the search for drugs soft in the head for what laid on my bed.

Another stayed in my head all the while silent but deadly while another screaming banshee stood at the sidelines until I went to her.

Another still- a satellite in orbit of words, symbols, and numbers touched down from time to time.

And another potential banshee stood by helpless as I tore and tore out of her financially.

It’s with hindsight and foreboding that I write these words down because I can feel myself searching for soft again.

But those days are behind me now, along with Garbage and a million songs, lies, and TV.

If I were a snail I could move to pastures new in a few days take in the coast.

Instead, I am stuck here where it hurts the most, removed only by a couple of miles from a revolving videotape of lies, remorse, remission, and divorce.

(In that space, a future did unfold that was bad to the core, the rotten apple in the bunch, eaten by wasps)

Can I be reliable these days? I trapped success in a box and then lost the box containing it. The damage done is always, but time is a healer, wheeler-dealer selling dreams to the poor and life force.

I have a calculator with plus and minus multiply and divide and a memory.

I can pretend it’s all beginning again, or something new, or something old (something borrowed, something new). (426 words…(do something)500 words should do it)

I suck on it sideways till all the color has gone and hope the flavors connect with the words and ideas (already gone).

Silence…Bathrooms..Bedrooms (cupboards) walls.

My bedroom, a cross on the wall showing Jesus dying (making the ultimate sacrifice) which is strange if you consider he is the son of God.

Grey duvet, new from Do-It-All and white furniture in a box room. A hole in the wall where I stashed my hurt money for later.


I like being me(hate being me).

(you’re not funny)

I feel OK (rotten) to the core.

(I could go for miles and miles and miles)


Por flavor (is that right?)

(All the things i have said)

While I wished away on my bed.(now is the future)

Now is the future! Now is the future.

I smile (and think happy thoughts)

(my bed, my room, all worthwhile)

(Rubbish) Bollocks!

(Ah, shite!) Shite!

(start again) Start again.

(what was I doing?)

Putting the world to rights!

(its very difficult to chase your thoughts, catch them, then put them down on paper)

Thought catcher? Dreamcatcher. Chinese thought catcher?

(It might catch on)

(almost there)500 words mmm…(26 to go)

(nothing left to say)Broke! (nineteen to go) (seventeen) (sexteen)Ha ha! (sexteen ha ha) (chortle)

(its funny isn’t it writing sexteen instead of sixteen – sixteen -sex) (isn’t nineteen really old?)

Thats 500 words (over 500) (time to go) Goodbye! (goodbye!)


Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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