Tag Archives: drunk

A seat

The bench, old and worn, was cold to the touch through the wool of my trousers

Hi

I could see a line of grime etched into the lines beneath her face as she looked up from her can and threw the shortest of dirty looks expertly mingled with a sound mixture of disinterested distain

Sometimes no doesn’t have to be put Into words or perhaps a look is the strongest no

Still and all it’s not a bad day all things considered

The look again this time I noticed a bunch of her hair stuck together with blood or sweat or vomit or whatever sticks hair together when a member of the human fraternity doesn’t get to avail of the washing facilities of a day or even a month

You can go fuck of if you think you getting something out of me I’m no hooker

I’m no punter either

Good cos I’m particular about who I be having the fun with

Me too

Yeah right

Yeah right exactly

Don’t be getting fucking smart you fucker

I just saying I not into hookers

You should be

Ah here

Well the state of you with the head on you and that Gammy eye and you look like your mother picked out the clothes. Is that wool?

Feck sake you’re worst than a commentator on one of them shows

What shows

You know the xfactor bollixology

Here listen don’t be using that kind of language in front of a Lady

Fair enough

And a slow breeze trailed across our path while we both looked on at the city passing by. a quietness in the kaleidoscope of hustle

You know no one talks as they walk

I looked up and listened and watched

Your man over there is talking on his phone

I thought I told you not to be a wise fucker

You only mentioned being a smart one

Whatever. He is on a phone that don’t count

Why not

It just doesn’t

Why

Cos it’s like the mad cunts who talk to themselves it’s not real talking it’s just pretend chitter chatter

I see what you mean

About the phone

No about them not talking they just are all rushing

Yeah

Yeah

Have you a light

Have you a fag

Yeah

Right then

And I saw her eyes were brown when she held the flame

She would have been a beautiful daughter to some Da a long time ago

She held the smoke deep inside, feeling it’s warmth before slowly releasing it back into the world

I better make a move

She nodded and looked back down

I touched her shoulder gently when i stood, the briefest of contacts; she didn’t react, maybe she hadn’t noticed

I walked on with out a word been uttered to a soul, a member once more of the rushing throngs

(C) frankie mcgivney

Just a random story of top of my head I hope it reads okay. The words I love to write

Falling

and I pray I never fall in love with you

Again

Take me baby take me away

To a time when all I need is you 

While the silver haired gigillo dies

From hip replacement surgery

And the moon shines on a bare ass

Mob of delinquent pensioners singing

The last tunes of franks wild years .

And I’ll try baby I try my best

I’ll rip my soul

Ill take the plunge

I dance the last fan tango 

But I think I fell in love again 

Monday Morning Rambling

The bar is shut and I’m standing here with a bottle in my hand, grime in my hair and thoughts in my mind. The bottle is empty, some of its contents is splattered by the side of the bar. That guy that sold ideas had ruined my chances with the blonde with the short skirt and the long legs. She gave up smiling as I gave up on the night. She left with someone else as I knocked him out. Well I wished I had knocked him out. it was the whiskey he drank that knocked him out. The doorman knocked three shade of shit out of me while throwing the pair of us up the alleyway. He only did because he fancied Ms Blonde himself. I could see jealousy in his eye as he opened the skin above my eye with a punch. I don’t know what I am doing with the bottle. somehow I imagined sticking it in to his face, but I wouldn’t be able to do that. I throw it against the window and it smashes. The bottle not the window. I run , where do you run to when you have no where to go.