By now I have a really swell headache

If we never meet again maybe I’d remember you fondly

The way things are going

Like those gone before

Hard to say

The coffee bitter and depressed in equal measures

You’ve got plenty to say for yourself,

You talk more than any one I ever met

You’ve got me self censoring

My own estimations of success

Tallying tales of non events

I’m not sold, I’m using words like ‘wicked’ and 'cool’

Talking myself out of a dare

And ready to bale

Paradise might be hell but worse is chicken limbo

Descending in the void of a lift

To a car park full of four wheel drive shopping trolleys with squealing wheels

Mouths full of powdery health foods

Fuck this for a future 

You’re hot breathing on my face is insufferable

I don’t want your problems missionary on mine

Stay in your own greasy bubble

I’m out.