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Bullet Points

By

Rusty Broadspear

It’s more than four walls,

I’m a stranger in danger.

It’s more than claustrophobia,

It’s like being left behind,

 

Unnoticed,

Wanted dead or alive

But then, who would know the difference?

 

Lonely evening walk,

Daytime empty talk,

Through the motions,

Indifferent.

 

Looking in the mirror

Without make–up,

Sad and old.

   

“Cool” is a planet

A long, long way away.

Swimming in tears

On a dirty bed.

 

Hearing words through a vacuum

The very next day.

 

Feeling the lipstick

Wearing thin,

Nervous tongue

Out then in.

 

Bright red teeth

That I can’t see

Snap at the face

In front of me.

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