Here is a little scrap I found in the folder. I’ve dusted it off and tweaked it a tad.
It consists of a few lines, some of which may end up in another work.
I’m painfully aware that it’s not Nobel material…
Here we sit, disintegrating in front of each other
Holding it together with alcohol, sex, masks of hysteria
Speaking sneeringly of love and other pathologies
As we jockey for position, avoid certain questions, fudge answers
We eye each other like coaches of opposing teams
But will our chosen sport be the winner?
Or will we disgrace ourselves?
There comes a time when the water-under-the-bridge
is threatening to break the levee.
So I ask myself: Would I risk my life to save yours?
Or would I just let you drown.