While i assassinate your personality
because, you see, you're flaccid
in every regard you think you're
hard but really you lack the drive
to survive outside this giant
so hush little baby
and listen and we'll find an event
that may prevent you, now 32, from sitting alone,
council home, you malcontent
with both shared rent and growing brood.
Despite attempt, failed, derailed perhaps
by rubber factory error
she is forever eight months in.
Is that worth this lesson,
BBM message session
while George and Lennie
have a different touching moment
to the nighttime frequent you are planning
with Chantelle Stanning,
11B, now 33, your two kids, three more (one his.)
and an iGCSE, but kids ain't free
and that inspector ain't as convinced
by your bad limp that's been knocking round
for years and years and Chantelle's night tears
are getting louder in competition
with the little, brittle, possibly half, yous.
But don't be daft, of course you'll be fine,
you'll wait in line, on results night for that
'might have got a C' and then college will
be a brief fragrant thrill of freedom.
But let's look into your vacant eyes
there's no surprise
no words reflected there
despite the book I see is opened now
I could let my hope end for ever reaching you
but if I believe that's true
If, now, between me and you,
that's how you'll win and lose
I will not apologise for
your lack of imagination
it represents your ineloquent station
and your frustration that no-one's
holding your grubby hand.
Why don't you understand that
your diurnal excitement is bland
and tediously unthinking
turn the phone off and drop
your perpetual scoff at life
this strife you claim to feel
is not real it is the fetid creation
of a generation that 'can't be arsed'
so look passed the blinking top corner light
and realise your fight is with yourself, not me
perhaps we'll see that you have some integrity
and you'll find that you are more and more besides
that which anyone has ever told you.