Above your breakfast table
there is a poster which reads
MAI 68
DEBUT D’UNE LUTTE
PROLONGEE
you like it only for its graphics
white on red
in your loo there is a poster of
Gavrilo Princip
only he is allowed to watch you shit
You have lines from Gibran
tattooed on your shoulder
but ignore the Bible
(given to you as a child)
and use it as a door stop
You have fucked most of your friends
(both female and male)
and are considered sluttish
by nearly all of them
yet you only search
for the dynamics of love
You consider yourself attractive
but play down your looks
by always looking shabby
as you know this is chic
Your flat is trendy
but you know it to be sad
as only you share
it’s beating heart
You have travelled well
to Greece, Spain and beyond
but prefer to visit Guildford
as often as you can
(and revisit your childhood)
You use your swing
on your visits home
and are sometimes pushed
by your father
now dead
yet still handsome and grey
On Mondays you travel by tube
to your tedious desk
and dream of the extermination
of the senior managers and their acolytes
(as slowly as possible)
Your email address is Maud1965
after the Patten poem
but you do not use it much
as your colleagues bore you
with their petty lives
You long for art and revolution
but do not know where to seek them
you sketch a great deal
but your self portraits
always show the emptiness of your gaze
And you abandon them
to the Princip Room
where they hang loosely
held by sticky tape
and watch you shit
in the presence of the young Serb