How did This get in my Poetry Folder?

Fucked.

Talkin to the old Tit in the pub last night. Actually a bar, twopoundsfuckinthirty a Becks it was. About this fuckin’ fucked up fucker. Lovely bloke.

She says “we’re all fucked ain’t we Sweep”.

I says “Yea.” you know in that inevicable way like it’s true.

Then she says “So how come you’re alright?”

I finks. I says, “Well being fucked ain’t werf a fuck is it.” We larf. “I mean you fink you’re special, like the only fucker in the universe wiv a fuckin problem and you’ll be like ‘I ain’t goin to share this shit with anyone, I’ll look a right plonker.’”

She says “Yea, it’s bollocks ain’t it.” I give her a little cuddle.

“I mean once you can like put your hands up an say ‘OK, I’m fucked’ what happens? Every other fucker says ‘Thank Christ for that, I’m not the only one’, except for the really stupid bastards who’re so fucked they’re still holdin on to bein perfect, and you’re like ‘la, la, la’  cos you ain’t keepin it in no more.”

“Is that your secret?”

“Well it’s hardly a fuckin secret, I’ve just told you ain’t I.”

She smiles. “Yea but people are scared ain’t they?”

“Well walkin under a fuckin bus’ll kill ya, be scared of that. Anyway no one’s ever died of lettin it out, they might of died of keepin it in, not letting it out.”

“So how did you do it smart arse?”

“Well I figured you never let go of anything by keepin hold of it do you.”

“No?”

“Well you don’t do you? ,” I gets on a trot here, “Like you’ve got a bird; you hold it tight to stop it flappin about, but when it’s time to let it go you like open your hands,” I makes the gesture, “and it flies away. See it? See it go?” We watched it flap across the bar and out the window. Which was interesting seeing as how the window was closed.

“See how it stopped struggling when I open my hands and it like knew what to do, stopped struggling, stopped being frightened. That’s like all your fucked up stuff. Hold it tight and it’s a pain in the arse, open your hands and poof, out the window.”

“It’s that simple?”

“OK, so it is and it isn’t. But it is. Look, it’s just as hard as you want it to be. Yea that’s it, it’s as hard as you want it to be.” I turned to her, enthusiastic like, “it’s like what you really want, not what you think you want, that’s bollocks, look at what you really want. Do you want to hold that bird, stop it pecking your fuckin eyes out, stop it shittin in people’s beer, knockin ‘em overm flyin round the bar in a mad fuckin frenzy? Cos that’s what it’ll do won’t it? You know that’s what it’ll do. But it didn’t, did it? You saw it. Flew straight out the window, happy as fuckin Larry it’s got away. Am I right or am I wrong?” She was eating crisps. “See what you really want comes out of what you really know.” I’m like this is shit hot, answers to the Universe stuff. “If you know the birds just glad to get away, you’ll open your hands, won’t you? Till then you’re stuck holding the fucker. Well won’t you?”

“Yes Sweetheart. I love you. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Cos you’ve got a big fuckin dick.”      We larf.