Saturday, January 16, 2016

14

What do you love when your love isn't moving you anywhere? Say I've been drinking for 22 years, playing computer games for 33, is it permissible to accept this now and that the other more interesting things I have done were just a way to facilitate these two?

What's a better way of imagining the rug slowly being pulled from beneath me? Or is it more amusing to imagine someone trying to do this surreptitiously, with care, and me keeling and too vain to realise, in pantomime to the throng that I have imagined scooped together. 


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4 comments:

  1. Tracy TongJanuary 17, 2016 at 12:23 PM

    this is a lovely poem. what is the significance of 14 as the title?

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  2. MatthewJanuary 18, 2016 at 9:53 AM

    Thanks! 14 is how old I was the first time I got drunk. I was at a cousin's wedding.

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  3. Tracy TongJanuary 20, 2016 at 10:22 AM

    Ah..I see. Interesting. :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. zinnia y hugoJanuary 23, 2016 at 11:32 PM

    I like "keeling" as a sort of portmanteau of kneeling and keening...

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