It started well, so cleanly
Soaked in Lush stuff she soothed the aches
Whilst wife was meanwhile cooking a treat
Cider soaked pork and apples
The taste was tremendous
Precedent set for the night ahead

Feeling cool as ganstas we bopped and grinded
To hip-hop only Jurassic 5 could please me with
We were few female amongst a crowd of masculinity
And we relished the imbalance
Flirting my way to the front of the bar
I reignited my relationship with the favourite Jaegar-Bomb
And there dust settled upon the cleanliness

Things turned hazy but in a good way
Post gig we flooded onto the streets of Brixton
And drank the finest foreign beers from an overflowing alehouse
The company was our long-missed men-friends
And yet we still meeting more
As we shared the ingredients to ***** our lungs
They asked for 50 shades of grey in return for rizla
So I rose to the challenge in my half-cut state

This time is was always my intention to wash the weekend down wildly
And starting Thursday this premature session could progress to only place
…the Queens Head
Where dust turned to grime as snapshots of evidence
Prove it was on the credit card that those Jaegar-Bombs were paid
Time and time again
We had become team-mates and it was time I fed them
So we muddled back to my place
Trumpeting our voices through the building
As I served slow roasted pork from glasses
Apparently felt good choice
But next day our melted fingerprints disagree
Our heads also disagree with the antics
And it takes two rounds of tablets to numb the pain

Before later forcing recovery as in Shoreditch we start again
Gathered at Bettys we watched music played
Our rumps rested on armchairs upon the pavement
We continued drinking until the early hours of the day
Then searched for somewhere to take us on the dance floor longer
After only brief grimes of movement and Jaegar
Our night ended abruptly to our dismay
Instead had my first take of kebab
And went north where *** took the night away

Once again woke next morn in bed with man-friend
No memory but surely not in a **** way
Now the skies ******* a mocking mirror of our livers
It seemed a sign to sink further
And the finest ****** Mary led the way
And together sat on sofas we philosophised subjects that we deemed great
Then we ogled sparkly get ups
With prices that we couldn’t afford to pay
So went south to join more friends whose film we met to celebrate

The beginning of the end of madness
Needed cocktails-all we could tolerate
We had formed a tribe of friendship
And we hunted somewhere to prolong the rave
By now all sense of cleanliness long-time washed away
So a downstairs dive provided venue fit for our friendships to extenuate

Then outside met a generous stranger
Who offered tastings that lead our minds astray
Our insides dirtied beyond belief
But sprits high so when we stumbled upon a private party
We were welcome guests to join their birthday

What happened next I needn’t say
For inevitably it had become Sunday
So ***** now we were beyond grey
In wife’s bed I lay
Whilst my insides showed their dismay

This would take some cleaning

She had always wanted to let go,
to feel the fading of her tired heart,
lie down and just accept the inevitable.
Some called it an unhealthy obsession
to think about mortality regularly,
but she accepted the fact and she was happy,
under no delusions that she would live forever.
Just.
Let.
Go.
Three words that could devastate a mind.

She philosophised about the beyond,
contemplated an afterlife or nothing.
There seemed to have been no beforelife
that she or anyone else could recall,
so what chance was there of something after?
Life wasn’t a circle, it was a spiral,
and we were always spiralling down,
and when we reached the bottom,
well, you slide right off the end into non-existence.
No fanfare of trumpets, no felicitating light,
just the cold termination of time.

Her spiral was shorter than it should have been,
some cosmic joke that always gets played
on the smart and not the dumb.
This universe doesn’t seem to do balance,
more stupid people than clever,
more dark matter than physical,
more space out there and not enough here.
So the universe had to set her free
and not a day goes by I don’t miss her.
I asked her where I was on my spiral
but she never gave me an answer,
instead, a little look of knowing
that could never be read.

I hope she was wrong
and she waits at the foot of my spiral
to catch me when I slip and slide away.

i still look for you in endless skies and infinite depths, in artificially beating hearts and macro-micro scale, past the schwarzschild radius, inside the electron orbital. the mere thought of you dwarfs everything that could be and can be conceptualised or philosophised or made, even as our descendants reach for the stars and become gods and synthesise emotions and transcend physical form, when history is a nightmare the human consciousness is trying to wake up from, there will be others too who love and lose like i did.