‘Ere, Neave?

I can’t promise to dance but
I can show you my beer mat
and tobacco pouch collection,
pinned up chronologically
next to the the Playboy Bunny
and ganja leaf baggies;
each one that litters the floor
the same as the ones on the wall before.

I can’t promise you a man
who even knows the theory
of dancing, and only vaguely knows
how to dress himself;
the same jeans for three weeks running,
“fucking horrible” t-shirts,
The same hideous shirts over them,
the same occasional, “Shit, you smell nice”
and someone who takes
far too much pride in his cold-cosy hovel.
Hey, I’m not sure I can even
promise clean underwear.

I can recall everything I’m not
and can’t and shan’t and won’t.
I can do that. I’m pretty good at that.


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: www.facebook.com/dickensianjack Cheers, enjoy.
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