I finish work
and my grains
have been hit so hard
today that I fear
I’ve become magnetised
I don’t want to attract
the wrong kind of spoon
not tonight or I will
rip him a new one
Say ‘ My computer at home’
come on I dare you

I finish work
and do a tour of duty
at Tesco’s each aisle
a personal battle
of advertising want
really where the beer
sounds the charge
of true marching bands
where I will play to
those drums
beat, cymbal – god whatever
just give me old number 7

I finish work
and avoid spongers
and fuckwits alike
the schizophrenic man
is a scary mother fucker
the mad bobber shopper
ask’s me for a rizla
Je SUS dude I’ barely
make it through the month
survive in your own way
he calls me a fucker

I finish work
with bleary eyes
of desperations
and down

Rum finish
drinking angry
and Knackered

I finish work
and feel the
day leave me nice
a frustration that I will
face on another morrow

one day maybe soon
I won’t finish work
it will finish me
still there’s time for
old number 7
the kind of shot to finish on


7 thoughts on “Tired”

  1. This is my Tesco trolley
    There are many like it
    But this one is mine…

    (A sort of rip off from Full Metal Jacket – it makes me feel better in Tesco)

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