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I turn down the bed
whilst listening to Otis Redding.
I’d do anything that’s hard,
anything the sun can do.
I’m drunk and dinner is cooking.
Fumbling around the kitchen
I haphazardly lay the table,
I should be celebrating with Dominic and the rest.
You come home, acrimonious.
I’m drunker still and
you’re screaming “Cunt!” and
I’m not really sure how to feel about it.
You’re green in the eyes and I’m red in the neck,
Come a little closer if you dare.

© Elliott King 2013

*****

Today’s featured poem comes from Elliott King, a 23 year old writer from the UK, currently undertaking his masters at the University of Hampshire. A cynical piece that tells of loathing, love bordering on the violent with the wrong people gone sour, and regret this is firmly in the tradition of the Beat poets. Elliot uses the imagery of being stuck into menial, thankless tasks against ones will to purvey a sense of isolation, lack of freedom and ultimately, being unwanted. A scathing, bitingly realistic piece of confessional poetry, that demands attention.

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