Spine Poetry - A Collection of Verses for the Family on the Way

I am a number I am a dot When you’ve got a quick moment Come give me a watch See how I’m doing Then go get your tea Put out the rubbish Watch some TV Sort out some admin  Go shopping for food Then peek at the laptop See if I’ve moved Try and remember Where you saw me last Do a quick calculation  Is that slow, is it fast? Have a quick look At the leaders ahead Before putting the cat out And heading to bed When you awake In the night for a pee Fire the phone up Ask, “Where can he be?” Repeat through the week ‘till I’m kissing that wall And I’m boring old me Not a dot any more

This too shall pass Sick of this rain The novelty's gone Gloves are soaked through Stomach in knots Food needs eating But can't bear the thought I swear the mud is getting muddier The miles are getting longer Even though that's physically impossible And to cap it all, it's getting dark It's always either getting dark or dark My head is dark Fuck this shit This too shall pass Sun's up That pasty went down a treat I'm full of running Legs somehow fresh Despite the miles This place is amazing This race is amazing I know it's just a field But right now, it's the best field I've ever been in Life is good I get to do this all day And tomorrow too It's worth every penny Every gram of bulging kit That medal isn't yet in touching distance But I can see myself wearing it This too shall pass Lows too low Highs too high A surefire way to tire Easy on the bass Tone down the treble Just keep on the level Where it's clearest  Where it feels best It ...

I did a spreadsheet A schedule; split times and sleep Times and places to eat, to look after my feet, afford myself a treat... It was neat First on the screen, then in my head Composed with a brew, a biscuit or two and perfectly functioning feet It was wrong Of course it was wrong, I knew all along Minutes wide at Torside, hours late at Thwaite, and Yetholm was anyone's guess It was clean Said nothing of the mess, the profound tiredness Staring into a dropbag Snoozing in some toilets and mumbling to a man who wasn’t there It was hope Fantasises in cells and rows, hardly unicorns and rainbows Just a will to give ones best That the bogs aren't out for flesh and the reality is as Spine tingling as the dreams