Tuesday, January 24, 2017


2 am and wide awake
That's when the cringes come
Sneaking out from back of brain
They swarm,  they buzz,  they hum

I then remember and regret
Such tiny little things
None but me recall them now
But darkness gives them wings

A song sung loud with words misheard
In front of special girl
Though twenty-five years have now past
I cringe now as thoughts twirl

Or when I stood 'fore crowded room
And Freud swapped "left"  for "right"
Bad when talking politics
My thoughts remind tonight

That sitcom moment when lass told
Of friend for whom she lusted
I thought it me,  I had it wrong
My thoughts cannot be trusted

My cringing thoughts and memories
They don't leave room for cheer
And focus often on disgrace
On id set free by beer

They twist and turn and stab at self
No dark stone left unturned
Any notion of self worth
By inquisition burned

By light of day I'd laugh at them
Or at least contextualise
See them for what they really are
But night is cruel. It lies.


"Thanks very much
for the inconvenience

An email full of courtesies.
substantially devoid of content
other than my name
do you call it a signature if typed?
Is self content?

I read it back over before sending.
proof reading
an email
saying thanks

(I mean,  come on!)

I wonder
how my life came to this

courteous, vacuous,
bland,  attentive

I was going to change the world.

(and then,  reflection)

"I love you with every boner in my body

With all of the wit
and sophisticated understatement
that you might expect from
an idiot child
seventeen year old virgin 
with undiagnosed ADHD,
I used to sign off uni emails with that.

All of them.


Quite how *that* was
going  to change the world
eludes me now,  but I think
it was something
to do with challenging norms.

... Yeah... 'bout that...

Probably more just being a bit awful,
Seventeen year old Hamish.

The world was going to change me on that one.

Probably for the best that it did.