Ant Smith

Published

Far Too Many

Far too many

cigarettes,

stubbed out

in my face.

Far too many

insects,

flying about this place.

Far to many

spiders,

spinning in my head.

Far too many

hours spent,

inside this baking room.

Far too many

brain cells dead,

I’m in that zombie mood.

I got to get out.

Far too many

locks and bolts,

securing my front door.

Lost my keys,

I lost my keys,

I can’t get out no more.

I get down on

my hand and knees,

scrabble under chairs,

beneath a pile of maggots I,

find my hammer there.

The one I use to

crack the backs

of roaches on the wall,

I use it now

on the window pain

to get me out of hell.

I’m standing in the garden when

It begins to bloody rain

Far too many

dustbin lids,

playing in the street.

Far too many

bloody kids,

suffering in the heat.

Far too many

vehicles,

driving far too fast.

Far too many

earfuls,

as I’m walking past.

Far too many

domestic scenes,

of easy married grief.

Far too many

people on,

Far too many

streets.

Far too many

on this world,

as it spins around.

A lonely, cold and helpless

rock,

sinking without sound.

The whole entire universe

locked up in a box -

No wonder it’s so hot.

Help me, I’m melting.

Published