Paranoia. Poem by Neil Gray

Keith phoned

Friday Night
9: 25.

Wanted to know if I was coming out,
Didn't want to drink by himself
he claimed.

Not tonight man,
Tommorrow.

'O.k' he said
and hung up.

Then it hit me.

He never phones.

Ever.

Why tonight?

Is it because of the new one?
The one that just up and left,
Was he checking on her behalf?

Yeah,
She's with some guy
sat in my bar
sucking down alco-pops
and flashin her wears
for some new dick.

They didn't want me showing up
and making a scene.

Drunk, wild-eyed,
I came staggering through the door
cursing the World
and those bastard's in their heavens.

They froze,
Fear the great paralyser,
Waiting to see this
tornado break.

I fall into the nearset table,
Bouncing drinks and ash-tray's across the floor.

I point at him,
Smug, self satisfied
little prick.

Sat with MY woman,
MY girl....

'You, outside...'

They protest

'No, don't..'

'It's not worth it man...'

But this little fucker
show's iron balls
and follows me out.

Toe to toe,
Eye to bloodshot eye...

'So you're with her, huh kid? '

'Yeah...' he spits.

I reach out a hand and place it on his shoulder....

'My condolences...'

As I walk away,
A cigarette playing a smile on my lips,
I reason that paranoia
will kill you
if it's left to fester
upon your soul.

But placed on someone else's

It's a most pleasurable sin....