12 March 2007

something missing [ poem ]

sat in my friends Aaeron's room after he'd packed up his stuff ready to move to london was a strange experience. Gone were the turntables, gone were the scultures, paintings, and pictures that adorned the walls. It made me feel kinda sad. I was sorry to see him go. Again, this didn't have a title yet but I had to call it something.


this room has no soul no more
bare boxed, stripped and packed
just a shell now; canvas stacked all abstract against the wallpaper
CDs stretch babel-like.

I find myself falling down a k-hole of nintendo bleeps and whitenoise
chasing the white rabbit with some malt liquor,
don't I have someplace to be?

© Adam Cheshire 2007