Rough Mouth

Let’s cut it loose,
Slow it down
Ditch it, smack it, stop it
In it’s
Fucking tracks

Is that the only muscle that works,
Connected to your mouth but not
Your brain
Running on vapors but still running on

We’re all tired of being your back up plan
So three cheers for plan C
As we sidle away and take our wet blades
To the whetstone
Waiting

For you to turn around
It doesn’t have to be like this
We’re far from perfect
All of us

But we’re trying so hard
Bless us, anoint us
Let the sarcasm wash over us
Baptised and beloved by the patronising prophets

Sometimes simply living is hard enough
With the stresses and pressures we’ve created
Our qualifications hang round our necks like
Metaphorical seabirds

Still alive, screeching and flapping
Violently against our chests
Their shit running onto our shoes
Staining the cheap leather

Yet still the laughter rings out,
Caws out, clucks out
Get the fuck out of here and leave us
All alone, every last one of us

We’re cold, we’re poor but we’re happy
Or would be if we could just focus and
Count our blessings
Without that tongue clicking, clacking
Against the roof of your rough mouth

Chanting, chiding about how we should all
Feel a little less than fulfilled
An overqualified, inexperienced and indebted generation
Saddled with expectation and
Sidelined through no fault of our own

So raise your glass to repression
Block it out, blunt the daggers
Flip the coin and grin as the regent’s silhouette
Lands, facing up