Pulse 2 Poem by GRANT FRASER

We live
alongside,
behind thin
walls,

and hardly
even know
each other,

while clocks
tick,

or ticks,

tic!

with or without
us,

our smiles like
wrinkled polythene,

destination
one way,

thought -
another...

like through
invisible tunnels
everyday....

they either
want you inside
or outside!

the pressure
gauge,

life without meaning,

helps you to
decide if it's worth it,

if people are
who they say they are,

they often fall
short,

and you,
too,

fall!


fall!


shortest of all,

even after
the great contempt,

survival, more
of the same,

like when you see
something in a shop
and it won't go away,

I'll buy you up,
fill my hole of despair,

to feel a sweet reward,
coming...

it's already over,
I just came!

and I can hear everything,
that doesn't matter mostly,

like the crumpled
pictures in your brain...