Get used to disappointment


I am used to disappointment. I was hoping I could maybe get used to the other thing.

so pained and frustratedly[sic] angry
that i was about to cut my nipples off to spite my tits
but the scissors were broken and then the valium kicked in
now i wanna lie back listening to douglas adams
and feel cool about cutting out the dead wood
and wait for this aching to stop aching
so that what i'm doing is living and not just being alive.

those halcyon times you hope you don't forget, carefree and deliberately dumb fun
necking mushroom caps and catching the train to an exhibition, then leaving the art in favour of an adjacent climbing frame named dave, three of you spending hours inventing a new language, stupidity-intimacy, heaps of giggling, vodka milkshakes and and overpriced chips outside another gallery.
the same three of you kite-high, never leaving the bed, young turk ceasars, comanding red he-she for imbibing...goon punch and indoor smoking.
picnics and parties and revelling in our wilful disregard. I catch myself tearing up over how long past those times have got.
even as we get older we refuse to grow up.
but those times are gone.
since you showed me your real face
was snarling and mechanical.