Fucking Phone

For thousands upon
thousands of hours,
she'd stare at her phone.
She would just sit there,
pick up the phone,
look at it,
put it back down
and stare at it.

That cold, flat, slim,
slice of matter,
hovered there
in the corner of her eye,
urging her, pressing her,
calling her (you wish).



Ever aware of the swelling
between the inner walls of her mind,
the static of silence - ears rapped
around her head, like a dog
intent on hearing it's call,
whilst at the same time, aware
of a distant cry.

pick it up.
look at it,
check last sent message
then last recieved,
put it back down.
Just sit there,
stare at it,
pick it up,
look at it,
put it back down.
Just sit there,
satre at it,
pick it up.....



ONE TUESDAY WITH EDDY.