APAD #19: The Sound of No Strings Swelling

Your heart keeps beating at the same speed it always has,
The rain falls as fast and as heavy as it ever did.
There's a vile little popping sound as your lips part
And an even worse wet whack when they re-engage.

No strings swell, no soft focus, no camera spin.
You let your eyes open and look up
at the triangular window, high above the door
hoping for the moon but all you see is grey
so you close them again.
And keep kissing and keep wishing
you could stop thinking about the phrase "bacteria transfer".

Hollywood has lied to us again:
Slow mo never kicks in when you need it.

[End. Written whilst listening to Saint Etienne.]

APAD #6: Generic Angry Small Town Teenage Heart Break Poem 12 (Co-Habitation)

i.

Back in the hometown for a religious holiday of no signifigance
I lapse back into a teenage fantasy where I can play guitar
And begin to wonder what songs I would have performed
at my first ever show with the express aim of pissing off
my least favourite ex-girlfriend.
The sun sets on a patch of grass splattered with dog shit
and I wonder where she is...

ii.

It turns out that where she is
is getting Chinese food at the same place I am
ten minutes later.
(And still dresses exactly as she used to,
which I find a little unsettling)
These small towns are minefield;
All the people you went to secondary school with who you
now never want to see again
(which is all of them, obviously)
are primed for conversastions you never want to have
are loaded with information you wish you could forget
are waiting in the long grass which you have to cross
to get home/to get to the bus stop/to get food.

I sprint home and
(not at all thinking of your skinny current boyfriend)
eat a mountain of rice and chicken
to ensure I feel bad all over.

Dear sweet jesus I hope somebody paves over this county.

(Soon I will be back in a big glowing city
With girls who've only ever been needlessly cruel
to other boys
(Not me, because I'm Just A Friend who they
Love Like A Brother)
And easy access to A) Alcohol
and B) 4am milkshake.)

There's no question of broken hearts here -
(failing bodies, maybe)
That part of me long ago moved on
and made a decision;

I will no longer mask my contempt for you:
Let the hatred stand naked
Let me live with it awhile and learn to see it's good points.
If nothing else, it's (a little) inspirational.

[End.
Bloody hell. Bad evening. This one got a bit ranty, huh? I'll try to be less of an Angsty Teen Poet tomorrow. Written whilst listening to: Casiotone for the Painfully Alone. Not edited, which shows rather doesn't it?]