Gilded smoke and mirrors, television
Nurtures our needs like an aggressive cancer
Connecting over alcohol, muted sound and possession
Missing the criminal over a boxset realised.
Paint barely dry, containing the detritus of fire
Emerging exits slipping out of bounds
Resurrecting your inner idiot, flying at large
An argument never won with a belligerent toss.
Incremental charges on a favourite pint
Taxed for the pleasure, from whom is owed
Dead from the shattering lights overhead
The lonely seeking solace in a box-shaped heart.
Private wittering, emails promising the world
Internet on the quiet, in the snug, on the phone
Attention-rejecting antics spurn the close ones
The quiet ones needing less and less.
Trays of grateful food, as befits the occasion
Looking, not seeing, the situation of the small hours
Feeling the same about one’s betters, hitting ceilings
Triggering psychosis where deemed seemly.
Burning where bound, loosed when loosed
Hypocritical wishes light the hallway supreme
Weekday transfers the stay-at-home individuals
Grasp the nettle of hubris, a necessary punishment.
A cautious elephant enters the room
Warning, above others, of a chink in the door
Ahead of teachers wandering, a cross
Born by the unfunny, deluded same.
Paying attention is too easy, a quiet death
Blaming and shaming a worthy award
Nadir of results communicate laughter
Two-way alleyway lost on perfection.
Presumed guilty, a tag forever sacred
Prospects resulting in a studied fall
Prize for erratic behaviour, needing manners
Put on to show how the system works.
Settling down, swearing by betters
Higher power microscopes the dalliance away
Every move scrutinised, for a better pastime
Being sustained by cheap accusations.
Push the envelope slightly, gulp down boredom
A life more skinned than nose, entertained
By times eschewed, being hung out to dry
Loved at the wrong time, for a greater good.
Recovery at a loss of eventual innocence
Settling down at a good pace, eventual speed
Daily grind cycle at a tearaway’s pace
Behaviour at a premium is forever.
Laughter commencing at a timed-out joke
Dapples away from duty, a central attention
Dissociating where needed, a cruel punchline
Sanity rescued at expense of diatribe.
The unmarked fashion show shows itself off
Paraded through streets of glorious difference
Drinking coffee on a sliding scale
The home stretch always better, at expense.
Aborted creativity an excuse to not bother
Cutting costs over teatime, quid pro quo,
Subtle treats unwanted, go speedily back
Ugly buildings knocked down for sake of peace.
Being loved is crippling, sitting outside
The voicemail vomits its timely curse
Payment where missed, on pain of heart’s fatigue
Marking monuments as astute landmarks.
Shortening long cuts, slicing to ribbons
The face that never saw effort, no tears
Soliciting disaster over a princess’ stance
Bereft through experience, mothballed joy.
Mobile abuse over a silenced communication
Truth over beverage a tiring exercise
Many explanations but the living colour
Talking over failure, living at risk,
Be that as it may. Mystery tours
Wind up the discerning, blocking sanity
Expensive destinations rot money
Careering through the menu again
Losing the common touch, retrieved at will
Amplified summers sooth the everyday
A hearty noise welcoming the plebeians
A sickening urge to realise your fate.
Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland. To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals. These include: The Lake; Seventh Quarry Press; Marble Journal; New Binary Press; Stanzas; Crossways; Ygdrasil; Seventh Quarry; The Fractured Nuance; Revival Magazine; Ink Sweat and Tears; Drunk Monkeys; Hesterglock Press; Linnet's Wing, Narrator International, The Galway Review; Poethead and The Evening Echo. Patricia recommends Pieta House.