no explosion

no explosion.

i sink
into my smile,
allowing my shoulders to rise
and hug my neck

the music
coming through my earphones
suddenly
sounds
clearer.

no explosion.

the day didn’t go up
in flames.

i let myself breathe
for the first time

since waking up this morning.

i look forward
even more now
to seeing my friend after work.

no explosion.
no fire.
no flames.

i sink
into my smile

and rest

in joy.

oxytocin

clocks that work
smiles that are genuine

i lower my head
and concentrate
on the discomfort
around my right temple

tea

it’s not quite doing the trick,
but i drink it anyway
because i’ve told myself
that it will work.

i talked about my father today.

i drank with him two weeks ago.

my forehead.
the discomfort has moved there now.
i’m still drinking the tea.

oxytocin.
one person.
a friend.

i still can’t believe my mother is dead.
life is a shit hole.

i don’t have enough money to get out of it yet,
but i dream about the days when i will be out

up

away

smiling.

there will be pictures
and languages,
i will feel good.

when i’m not away,
i’ll do work that i love.
i will not dread each day as it begins

and in all this loving and seeing
and colour,
maybe i’ll find a clock that works
and smiles that are genuine
from one person.
a friend.