Twenty Minutes


So what do you want me to say?
My mind has become
A Springsteen horror film,
Old car fantasies falling to grit;
Maria’s Dead End Dancefloor on E Street.

Yet the girls sway to the music
And smoke things they shouldn’t,
And the Gaslight Boys tell us to
Write as we would love to read.

These words just don’t make sense any more
So tell me you want them – need them –
Lines rough cut from a cascade,
Stacked on shelves with empty picture frames
For gathering dust.
For storage.
For if your mind wanders to me again.


Twitter: @DickensianJack –

Note: I do not own the image above. Teresa Young, I think, though I’ll stand corrected;


About DickensianJack

Born in Wolverhampton in November '93, moved to Huddersfield in September 2012. Studying at the University of Huddersfield. In love with the town - simple as that. As for the blog itself, I've been doing bits and pieces of writing (with varying quality) for a few years. A friend suggested I start a blog to share my work. Most of the stuff on here is poems, but there's other work interspersed on the page. Feel free to leave any comments on my work. Twitter: @DickensianJack (Jack Dickens) Facebook: Cheers, enjoy.
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