Boxing Night

Boxing Night

Boxing night
I celebrate in style
In boxer shorts and spirits
Floor littered with ghosts of bottles past
There’s a naked hush
Clothed only in breath and the pulse
Of a heart that is kicking
As though it is desperate to be born
I am hostage blind
Deaf to the din outside
Good Glasgow could burn to it’s timber tonight
I’d barely blink an eye
Well the clock just stopped
You can cut that into my headstone
Won’t something move so I stop
Staring a hole into the phone
You can get me at home
With a drink to ill health
Just me and these walls
And a beaten up chair
On Boxing Day
This is boxing night
Someone lost an eye
I fear I’ve lost the last drop
Of whatever kept me awake, alive
I fell in the fourth from a heavy right hook
To a blushed and swollen face
In a single blow it’s murdered
Then it takes years to waste away
I can’t call you all mine anymore
I can’t call you full stop
But you know you can call me up anytime
Call me whatever the fuck you want
You can get me at home
With a drink to ill health
Just me and these walls
And a beaten up chair
On Boxing Day