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Bullet Points

By

Rusty Broadspear

Itís more than four walls,

Iím a stranger in danger.

Itís more than claustrophobia,

Itís 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 makeĖup,

Sad and old.

   

ďCoolĒ 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 canít see

Snap at the face

In front of me.

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