1 March 2013
Relax.
Calm down.
Calm. . . Down.
Glance around me.
Scan the room.
' Look at this place.'
Chaos.
Unwashed plates iced with congealed fat.
Empty beer cans doubling as ash trays.
There is an old, cold cup of coffee, skinned with green velvet.
Unbeaten pizza crusts and takeaway boxes.
Crushed cigarette packets and dust.
Decayed entertainment.
Empty vodka bottle, topless, standing by itself.
Like an exhibit.
HATE this brown carpet.
Wicker waste paper basket led on its side, spewing its contents.
Cellophane wrappers, brown apple core, butt ends, empty match box.
Ughhh! Stinks in here.
Stinks STinks STInks STINks STINKs STINKS!
And still the mindless bass beat.
Thump Thump Thump.
Not just through the wall.
Under the wall.
I can feel it.
Along the ground.
Through the chair.
Into my feet, up ,y legs.
Infecting me, Becoming me.
Till I'm 'thump' myself.
I am thump.
Sickening. Stupid vibration.
A disease.
Threatening.
And the stupid neighbours don't even realise.
They don't know it's driving me mad.
And that's what grates....
The not knowing-ness of it....
I feel dismissed....
" Dismissed! Dsmissed! Smissed! Smisst! Mss ss ss ss ss ss st!
Letting Go • Opuss № I