Tales From A Broken Society

Animation 39

Daylight brings confusion
Drug induced illusions
Multiple infusions
Pill popping delusions.

Drag the living corpse downstairs
Place it in the usual chair
It slurps the coffee waiting there
Screams inside “It’s so unfair!”

Watch it smoke a cigarette
Laced with anger
Pain, regret.
Then once it’s settled for the day
Watch it type its life away
Sitting there with nowt to say
Same old shit
Just different days.

Reah Roberts ©2013

Tales From A Broken Society


Thin veils of sincerity
Truth brought out on special occasions
Like mother’s best china
Even then its behaviour Questionable
The void encasing you
Sucking the life
The spirit
Even from the most determined.

Illicit fumbling’s
Lowercase mumblings
The back alley friendship of a modern age
Feelings falsely placed in the back pocket
Saved for those easier to manipulate
Life’s wallet empty and overspent.

It’s easier this way
Interaction on your terms only
The click of a key
Nurturing the lonely
Social media playing the tune
Its melody deceiving
As we dance awkwardly
Typing our way
Through this vacuous creation.

Reah Roberts ©2013

Morsals of Madness

The White Room

The room itself was stark,
devoid of all feeling or personality
The sterile white walls bare but for a single painting
Within its frame a picture
Nothing fancy or particularly interesting
Just a mass of haphazard circles
A question mark placed at odd angles within their never ending lines.

In the far corner stood a tree of some kind
Neglected, gathering dust
The cobwebs intricately weaved within its leaves
Telling her its purpose was long since forgotten.

Needing to focus, her eyes moved slowly around the room
To her left a metal filing cabinet Its lock rusting
As were the lives encased Within the files kept for future reference.

To her right a water cooler
Half empty but still bubbling away
The plastic cups discarded thoughtlessly
Almost filling the waste paper basket beside it.

With nothing left to detract attention
The real reason she was here loomed in the darkness
She sheepishly looked ahead at the man behind the brown melamine desk
His aged face quizzing her every movement
His dark eyes fixed as he probed her every thought.

He sat, seemingly relaxed
Perfectly manicured hands entwined
Comfortably rested in front of his bearded face.

Time seemed to stop as he sat unmoving
Darkened eyes still watching
Waiting for a sign that he could begin…

That she was ready.

R.M Roberts ©2010