Void Fillers

Inside doesn't quite cut it,
There's no stimulation to be found,
Tired limbs bring good memories,
But memories fade and blur,
Colour, light, noise, music, drugs,
Ingredients for a good time,
I need fun.

Restlessness is settling in,
The need 'to do' is constantly there.
Places, activities feel far away,
The past is of course unreachable,
The future uncertain,
I want to be around people,
I need company.

The touch of skin on skin,
Lips together, eyes closed,
Comfortable, beautiful silences,
Fingers entwined,
The sun breaking through,
Noises outside distant and muted,
I need love.

RIP

It was a year today that you were taken from me,
On that warm april night,
We were riding on a wave of freedom,
Our happiness shining bright,
Then that man came out the darkness,
With a face of anger and frowns,
He rammed us with his taxi,
But only you stayed down.

As i got up bruised and bloody,
You were motionless lying there mangled,
Passers by unsure how to help,
Your frame at awkward angles,
The ambulance came to no avail,
Your chances of survival minute,
The taxi driver drove me home,
Your corpse was in the boot.

My bella itilana I've left you now,
For a streamlined french madmoiselle,
I picture you in free-wheeled heaven,
While that Skoda rots in hell,
A greater companion I never did have,
Two days were never alike,
You'll live on in my memory and the parts I salvaged,
My beautiful racing bike.

London's Riots

REMOVED DUE TO IGNORANCE ON MY BEHALF (and it was shit)

Ode to Ovaltine

Oh warm malty cup of chocolate mirth,

How I have longed for you for hours gone by,

As I sit in front of my computer screen,

My eyes square with every movement of the clock's elongated hand,

One sip is all I need to be transported,

Away from cold empty shared accommodation,

To memories of my grandmother now inhabiting distant lands,

And sitting in front of the fire on cold winter nights,

Alas the warmth is short lived,

So with my last sip I slip,

Into this cold April evening,

Alone once more.

Yellow Skies

As I lie in bed with tired eyes,
I look up at the pale lit sky,
A colour so constant in full view,
Grey-ish tones with jaune-ish hue,
This monotone,
Comforts me,
A feel of familiarity,
Compared to any other night sky,
This would shout,
Normality,
Foreign skies,
No matter how star-filled or full of wonder,
I'm born and raised,
Forever a Londoner.

So as I go to bed,
With tired eyes,
I know I'm home,
With yellow skies.