I’m a student I guess
For I live in a warren
I run up and down five storeys
To get to the steps on the street
I’ve places to go
And things to collect
A life to live
A train to catch
And a station to find
And friends who distract me
Arranged round a table
I want to impress them
And offer to buy a round
And it’s ice cream for all
And not beers
The queue snakes around and around
Too many options and too many flavours
Too much to fathom
Before I can even begin
And where are the cones
That I need to present
To the man at the till with the lever
Extruding the goop?
A stack of not nearly enough
And some are broke
So I lose the will
And my time’s running low
My train will leave in half an hour
And I’ve neither my things
Nor my bags
Nor a ticket
My brain’s running treacle-y slow
So I kneel on the ground
Beat my head on the dirt
Let the tears stream out
The salt, the wailing
The red and the grimace
The sobbing
My God, my observer
Surveys the scene calmly
He’s crying for help
He’s a self dramatiser
His pain is real
Sure enough
But he wants you to see
He wants you all to know
Blackthorn 