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Bullet Points
By
Rusty Broadspear
It’s more than four walls,
I’m a stranger in danger.
It’s more than claustrophobia,
It’s 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 make–up,
Sad and old.
“Cool” 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 can’t see
Snap at the face
In front of me.
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