Towering Greyness from Flights by Dora Maar

Is there poetry in this?
The routine emptiness
The butchery of bus stop queues and
Chain shop fronts inane
The daily dolour drift
The self­-sedating mist
The Stockholm syndrome of accepting
Everywhere’s the same

The towering greyness of the day
Today
Could only become deeper, darker,
If you went away
And reality this morning’s
A bit more than I can stand
It’s slipping right between my fingers
And I need a hand

Is there melody in this?
The routine hollowness
The coffee­-clutching, pass­-presenting
Countenances long
Can you traverse the abyss?
Without becoming Icarus
Or vanishing in repetition,
Sisyphean, gone

The towering greyness of the day
Today
Could only become deeper, darker,
If you went away
And reality this morning’s
A bit more than I can stand
It’s slipping right between my fingers
And I need your hand

If life is the illusion behind
Which our dream’s truths hide
Then I can’t quite work out if I’m
Inside or outside
And sometimes life can stumble and feel
More like stops than starts
- I lose all of my momentum
When we are apart

• Alternative
• Scottish
• art pop
• artrock
• indiepop
• post-punk
• Edinburgh