Let Them Eat Chaos by Kate Tempest

Author:Kate Tempest
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Life’s just a thing that he does.

He rolls over, cold pillow, warm body,

at the end of his tether as usual,

he breathes softly,

he burrows down deep,

closes his eyes,

and he thinks, is this really what it means to be alive?

The days go past like pictures on a screen.

Sometimes I feel like my life

is someone else’s dream.

Most days I’m dazed

walking round

I’m working

talking

perking up.

But always feel I can’t be certain

that I’ve woken up

at all.

Is this life?

Will this pass?

This feeling

like I’m looking at the world

from behind glass?

Even when I’m laughing hard

or falling on my arse

Or half plastered

before it’s even dark

Or when some hard bastard

barges past

When I’m passing my targets at work

I can’t shake the feeling

that life hasn’t started

It’s worse

in the evenings at parties

I’m standing apart

My heart’s hard

I can’t hardly be heard,

but I’m harping on, barking out words.

Is this me?

Is this what I’m doing?

I know I exist

but I don’t feel a thing

I’m eclipsed,

I’m elsewhere.

The worst part is

I don’t think

that I care.

What am I gonna do to

wake up?

I know it’s happening,

but who’s it happening to?

Has it happened to you?

I know it’s happening.

But who

is it happening to?

Has this happened to you?

I try new things.

I shoot films on my phone.

And play them back

when I’m alone

– Did that happen?

I walk around,

trying to understand every sound.

Trying to make my feet connect

with every inch of ground.

The sky flattens my cap,

battens me down.

Everything in its category.

Package and sell.

Flattering girls,

battle reality,

it’s Battle Royale

Everyone’s chattering,

nothing is Real.

Collect my salary.

Cooking a meal,

rice and vegetables.

I exercise regularly.

How do I feel?

Whistle a melody.

Is this

all

that’s ahead of me?

I always thought

that life

would mean more to me

eventually.

I hate to think I’ll make it to seventy,

potentially

seventy-five,

And realize I’ve never been alive,

and spend the rest of my days

regretting,

wishing I could be

forgetting.

I know it’s happening

But who’s it happening to?

Has this happened to you?

I know it’s happening

But who’s it happening to?

Has this happened to you?

Just two doors down

in the first-floor flat

in the old ramshackle house

with the novelty doorbell,

the lights are still on.

Zoe plays her music low.

She’s got a bottle on the go,

everything’s in boxes

It’s been a

long

night

packing.

Clothes in black bin-bags.

Blu-Tack greases the paintwork.

What the fuck is all this stuff?

There’s the road sign stolen from Quickshag Street.

Shirts and skirts

posters, CDs,

comedy coasters,

broken TV.

Birthday card that her sister made

in the distant past

when she turned thirteen.

Hair stuff, books,

love letters she can’t bin,

and outside the night

and inside the last hurrah.

Limited edition Air Max One Tens

Che Guevara Bust

complete with his ornamental glass cigar.

For years

the landlord never fixed the shower

The mould kept growing up the kitchen walls.

He’ll do it up nice now

sure

repaint it.

He’s tripled the rent.

He’s gonna get it and all.

Only got a few hours left

to get the room all packed and clean.

Zoe goes to the window

looks to the street

lights up a smoke

it’s 4:18.

The squats we used to party in

are flats we can’t afford

The dumps we did our dancing in

have all been restored

Pints are up two quid

the staff are beautiful and bored

You think it’s coming round here?

It’s falling on its sword.

It don’t feel like home no more

I don’t speak the lingo.

Since when was this a winery?

It used to be the bingo.

I’ve walked these streets for all my life

they know me like no other.

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