I Love When Everyone’s Gone To Bed

A younger me
Would fuck
The most attractive
Of them that would have me
And then the usual
Bullshit would begin;
‘You haven’t phoned me’
‘I thought we were…’
‘I can’t have…’
‘I can’t…’
‘I …’
I know you do not
Want me to say the truth
And that is why I say nothing
Yet you demand I say something
You insist on a lie
Even though women
Are meant to be
More in touch with truth than men
So I either lie a white lie
Or skip a continent
Or go drinking with another…

An older me
Is relieved
To outlast
The other singletons
Coupling off
In the nooks and crannies
Of our kooky host’s loft…

I can finally think
I can gloriously
Yet invisibly drink
Without boring
Amateurs telling
Me stupid things
About the tedious
Odds and ends
Of their pathetically
Abandoned dreams
Not to mention
Their idiotic advise
About how to become
Dreary bores like them…

I love when everyone’s
Gone to bed
I know how sad it is
What I have said
How terribly lonely
My pathology
Or my self-mythology
Makes me
In the consensus reality
Most of us need
To proceed through life
However dull our daily
Bread our daily dread
Our barely lived lives
Compromised by parroted
Lies and sit-com disguises
Ridiculous to our wild
Younger selves
Born to some glamorous
Heaven never fully realised…

I love when everyone’s
Gone to bed
I can finally think
I can gloriously
Yet invisibly drink
Without boring
Amateurs telling
Me stupid things
About the tedious
Odds and ends
Of their pathetically
Abandoned dreams
Not to mention
Their idiotic advise
About how to become
Dreary bores like them…