Working class.
Gay. Alcoholic.
Probably neurotic.
If I knew what
The word meant.
What I do know
Is that my entire life
Has been a total mess
Not that it's hard to guess
(But only if you read my poetry)
Which is why
I am sat in a chair
Scared of what
Comes next
In the Catford branch
Of the Citizens Advice Bureau.
Pretending at work
Because I don't
Want to look a berk
That it's yet another
Hospital appointment.
Time to face up to reality
After a lifetime of hiding
Frightened of even the
Most gentle chiding.
Need to get my life on track
NOTE no use of
The word 'back'.
For that's the tale
Of total fail.
Time to change
My entire life
From one of
A pitiful existence
Just plodding along
Feeling as if
I'm a total mong
To one of an ordinary bloke
Who can achieve
A modicum of contentedness
Before I leave this planet
For good.
Dulwich Poet 11th June 2014
(Just some thoughts about my shit life, as I sit in the waiting room for an appointment at the Citizens Advice bureau, looking for help in facing up to my various debts)
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