Sin Cos Tan


Sin Cos Tan

The sand rolls
up it’s sleeves.
Yawns. Sleeps its way
across space.

[…] so he tilts his hat
like he’s all that
– y’know, bullshit –
and I’m pulling at the tub
like nobody’s business
whilst he’s standing there,
all chinandfuckingcheeks,
duckfacing passing chicks
like he knows
what he’s doing […]

All cold and peculiar
in a draught up
to my middle
in bubbles.

[…] all against that, I say
and I say, how abouts
we just meet Thursday.
Makes sense. Simple.
But it aint like that for them.
They all have to take
out their phones
and look at ’em for an hour
before anyone can say anything
something, but there’s nothing
to say […]

Feel fire. Feel
something about yourself
and try to be.
To be.

[…] she said she was sorry,
but I don’t know. Perhaps,
sometimes. Sometimes
I think I’ll never know, that
maybe the worlds an echo
of some other shout; a second ripple
coming to shore. Maybe
that’s what this is all
about. Then I realise
that I’m standing there,
still wringing my hands […]

Nobody knows
the way I tie my shoelaces;
my third finger missing
on each hand.

[…] round the corner
f’s and blinds;
and I’m crouched there
still attempting to lift
this fucking, brass fucking
bath and I can’t stop smiling.
Man, I can’t stop
smiling as that guy drops
his duck jaw and hat-shit […]

Don’t, just don’t!
through the plasterboard
and into the next room
where they eat.

[…] the pub nursing off
the worst of the afternoon
when my phone rings,
and you know, you know,
these things – you try and pick
it up and you press the wrong
button and suddenly
it’s either all up in your ears
or you’ve hung up. I press
green, but must have pressed red
so I lose the call. Can’t work
out how to phone her […]

It’s not enough,
and the planet will
someday suffer
for your greed.

[…] and all I could think
about were these words
from something or someone
I couldn’t seem to remember;
‘People don’t love each other at our age,
they please each other, that’s all.
At our age you just think you do.
But I didn’t know the name,
regretted saying it the moment
it had come out of my mouth.
That’s when I said […]

Eat. Yeah eat.
Filth-up the dubs
Filth. Think only of your
meats, slender thighs,
the ooze you said
you liked. Hell knows:
Hell is your face
behind glass.

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© Hayden Westfield-Bell, 2012


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