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