Other Poems by:

Dave Hemmings


I have seen them looking at me as I walk home from work
Attractive women
Looking at me
Thinking that I look good
My eyes have connected with theirs for a moment and then they have walked past
This has happened many times
Today alone
At least five women looked at me in that way
That way that says 'fuck you are nice!'
'Fuck you are gorgeous'
I'm sure ! it is that way
I can tell
The way they look at me and then look away
Or our eyes meet oh so briefly
Then they are gone
I am gone
Never to meet again
I have never done anything about it
Never spoken to one of them
Never said hello
I'm sure that if I did they would respond
Some of them at least
Maybe some of them are looking at me in disgust
Disgust at my dishevelled appearance
But some
I know
They liked what they saw
What they see
I ! know I'm good looking
Yet I never speak to women
Not even the ones who obviously fancy me
It fucking hurts
It fucking kills
That something stops me from meeting women
From going out with them
From fucking them
Someone as good looking as me should be fucking a different woman every night
Yet I'm not
I'm here writing this
In my pants and socks
Waiting for the spaghetti to cook


grow a beard.
Shave it off
Grow a beard
Give it a trim
Cut a bit too much off
Have to shave it all off
Have a bit of stubble for a few days
Try and trim it to keep it the same length
Fuck it up
Have to shave it off 
Grow a goatee
Try and trim it
Cut too much off one side
Try and even it up
Fuck it up
Have to shave it off
Grow a beard
Shave it off


What can you tell the Psychiatrist? Its just a routine visit. 
You are not! suicidal like the first time you saw him. 
You don't think people at work are plotting against you.
 You are not just staying in bed every day.
 You are not sleeping in the same clothes for a week. 
You are not walking the streets talking to yourself. 
You are not smoking cigarettes out of the window whilst thinking how much better it would be if you were a pigeon. 
You are holding down a job. You are taking your medication. 
You are leading a normal life.
 Except you hate people. 
You don't have a social life. 
Everyday is the same and you feel like doing something crazy to get fucking noticed by all the cunts in the world. 
But you! are more sane than when you first came to see him. 
You feel like a fraud. You feel like there is nothing really wrong with you anymore. 
The Psychiatrist thinks of things to say to fill up the half an hour.
 He gets his ninety quid whatever.
 You have nothing to say.
 You have nothing to say. 
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