Reunion

There are too many ways
To crumble into intrigue,

To fall from grace and
Just sit pissing mist.

He came here to turn himself
Into something he never was,

To trickle then career
Into any dead thought,

Unreasonable or not,

Just a jigsawed illusion
Curdling the background,

A cameo in conversations,

A stumble supported by
Delusions of scaffolding,

30 hours of subsidised therapy,
Beta blockers for bouts of anxiety;

Loose at the bar,
Whispering what’s what,

Hunting for something,
Hot headed and desperate,

Drinking for hours
Then shape-shifting –

There was never any need
To take this seriously,

To sweat so vigorously,
To embrace hyperbole,
To dance erotically

Then cry.

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