Lip gloss

She applied
Lip gloss
And looked
At her friend
“I always
Wear black
She then puts
The lip gloss
And her
On her knees
“I like Pretty Woman”
“One of my best films”
“My favourite film!”
And scooches
Over to the window
Faces the other.
They wave
Their hands
They bend their necks
They smack their mouths
After each word
“It’s easy. Is it northern?
It’ll be easy”
And I worry
I worry
That I hate
Girls too much
To bother
Being friends
With them.

My computer was so slow today I was left there thinking

My computer was so slow today
I was left there thinking
About how planes
Used to scare me
And your hand never
touched me
With the blade
Of a fool
You could do work
A sadist
Could only dream of doing
Maybe he even
Dreams of it
In his sleep
And entranced
But to keep
It there
To keep it buried
In her hair
She must love you
And no one loves you
Like a daughter
Loves her father.

Tolstoy’s depression

Tolstoy suffered
From depression
In his fifties.
How glamorous.
Was he banging his head
Against the side
Of the bed,
Unable to sleep,
Screaming inside
With both hands
Covering his ears
At the sound
Of the boiler firing,
Unable to calm
The tiny waves
Moving up and
Down his body?
That certainly
Doesn’t coincide
With the picture
I had
In my head.
I saw
An old man
With a beard
Sitting on a chair
In a green garden
With his legs crossed,
Looking out with a sad
Look on his melancholic
Face. Unable to breathe
And not
To love
And not
Unable to find
A good enough reason
To speak a word
Or use a muscle.
Who knows,
Not everyone
Makes it to the other side,
Each of us
The pain of being alive
Tolstoy might
Well have made it
To the other side,
But he died of
Running away
From his wife.