Tissues. powder and white petals

I think my pocket is ringing
Apart from that I am coping admirably
Silently
My little catastrophe bags kept safe under bushes
Under fences
I try to say
That the misery is killing me
They say be thankful
I touch my face
My fingers shake
I still stand
I still stand
In the bathroom afterwards
So everything is fine
I am always fine fuckingfine
The advert on the television flies
They think I am smiling
Because I am coping
Admirably
In every place there is a bench
In every place there is a new low
I plunge my hand in the bin
Fish out the box
The napkin a thin defence from the dog shit
The vomit around the rim of the cheap vodka bottles
Drained dry
Hollow
Like the men on the bench
All of us finding some comfort in hitting a new low
Not much more left to lose
Not much more
I am full to the head
How lucky I am how fucking lucky
It only took thirty years to become nothing
I am so clever so fucking clever
My legs hold me up but I am not standing
I will answer the call in my pocket.
I smile.
The answer always rests there.
Tissues. powder and white petals.