White Tiles & The Bottle Empties by Ian Lewis Copestick

White Tiles

To wake and look around
See the white tiled walls
The thin, blue, rubber mattress
And the itchy, grey blankets
You realise you’re in a cell
Locked up in the
‘ Northern Area Detention Centre ‘
You try to piece together
The night before
And work out
How the hell you ended up here
Something to do with
Alcohol, no doubt…….
After all of the waiting
And seeing the solicitor
Facing the interview
Where you are told that
You are a drunken idiot
But there will be
‘ No Further Action ‘
This time at least
When you finally get out
You’ve still got a 10 mile
3 hour walk home
It’s at times like this
When you wish you could
Just lie down
Curl up into a
Ball and give up
Just lie there
And never be disturbed
Ever again

The Bottle Empties

The bottle empties far too quickly
The cigarette burns down
The T.V. burbles in the background
The book lies unread
This summer night is so humid
The sliver of moon cannot be seen
I find an empty page
In an an old lined pad
And unload my head
It doesn’t take long
Or take up too many lines
I lean my head back
On the pillow
Close my eyes
And wait
For sleep
Or for something to happen
And wait
And wait
And wait

Ian Lewis Copestick is a writer from Stoke on Trent, England. He is 45 years old and unemployed, this means that life can be tough but at least gives him time to write.

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