melancholy morning

metro,
free metro.
tabloid rag: scaremongering and pop news, celebrity gossip. i want to shout back "george best is dead and i don't give a fuck". i'm no expert, but it doesn't seem there was much to like when he was alive.

the tram is hopeless under the blood-sky. grim faces and mobile phones, all hiding behind metros. i've squashed my pear and lost my gloves, all i have left are the pair on elastic. i wear them but they make me sad; thoughts of you.