Building Blocks

You look at me
as if I’m
a house –
like the facade
but want to
rip the
guts out.

Knock down
walls, replace
fireplaces.
Coving,
tiles,
rewires,
boilers –
‘original’ features.
Tick them off –
‘style’ mags all
look the same.

My lungs are
filled with
MDF dust,
bathed in
varnish.
My head filled
with inane
monologues
of the
irrelevant.

The only
warmth comes
from the
radiator.
I like to
gather apples
in autumn.
They are left
to rot…

What are you looking for?