Addict

[billy]

Addict.

Stealing gin from the liquor cabinet underneath the piles of cut-out newspaper adverts.
My war surviving grandparents, they're not going to stand for shit.

Carter, James and I are smoking spliffs and passing vanilla milkshakes.
Bee and Maddie ingesting marshmallows into broken veins of vain hearts.

The carnivores are turning vegetarian on my pesto pasta,
and the vegan tried feasting on carnivores, though it wasn't a carnivore, when I cooked bacon for munchies.

Carter talks about love like he spent it all on arrogance, taking advantage of the vulnerable
in a forward backward dance.

This is their stance in
our modern day society, or so they say,
James with his sincere blue eyes and honest opinions and Carter with his chiseled features and chiseled words.

They say I'm witty for telling tales
in the midst of riddles.
I talk to Maddie as if she isn't fat and Bee as if she isn't totally obsessed with Carter.

Am I worthy of pale skin
embraced in skipping rope
that styles and strokes with S and M when James and I tried it?

The elderly are raving, well, at the village hall, so the house is all my own.
The babes at work are discussing politics, they grow up so fast.
Back here, when my stoned tales have ended, we are all watching from a Television set
into your homes of paranoid circumstance-

Or maybe, we, as a group, just think Paris Hilton really wants to be our BFF, on the TV. It seems so much more appealing stoned.
"Say goodbye to your beauty as you become succumb to the beautiful, no beautiful doesn't cut it, magnanimous." - Carter chirps up
whilst staring in the mirror with his tabloid lies.

"Good night." James and I crash in my grandparents room,
Maddie sleeps on the sofa while Bee cheats, for the third time, on her University boyfriend.
The statues of history are snoring from the mantelpiece

It's nothing but misery, doom, gloom and tragedy
for me, it was laugh-induced, for Carter it was spliff-induced,
for Maddie the milkshake just wasn't enough, James had some Paris Hilton-induced boner
and Bee just wanted a fight.

I'll wake up tomorrow, to everyone gone and the house,
like a beer bottle sea, smashed collectable swans
and the flooring sticky on my bare feet with liquid.
Thanks guys, where's the politics and charm in this?

it's hard to see the poetic devices used in this one LA apart from a couple of images and sea, smashed collectable swans. for me it's in need of a real good prune. get some phoneticals going in it, a bit of assonance etc. add few more images. a bit of internal rhythm would work wonders on it. for me this is one of those poems which has a huge capacity for some imagery. show us instead of telling us. the content is def there, you just need to work it. don't tap dance with this on, shake it's booty. (jmo)