The Bachelor Poem by David Johnson

When morning comes and one body is left in ruins,
from a night that swerved and crashed,
where no seat belt acting arm, hugged the shoulder, of he who holds intoxicated thoughts.
Past this morning's window sill, down the precipice of brick laughter is heard from strangers and dismissed as noise.
The song bird at the window sings, then shrugs as I leave the room mid tune.
How could something so sweetly sung, something so true, today, be heard as bland and missing?
Like an empty old house with walls that strain for the laughter of children, but hear nothing but white noise and see nothing but black, so plaster cracks, paint chips and walls swell and shrink in lonliness.
Today, the hollow entranced stare,
where the body gathers a mouthful of breath and labours the exhale.
The frown is exaggerated
and the dreamt movie of last night will play all day
on tall white walls in a mind that sprints but never crawls.