Mad Mal, suffering from PTSD,
recovering alcoholic, addicted
to Red Bull, the cheap sort, 35p.
Haven’t seen him for months. He objected
to me calling the police when he rang
letting me know he’d decided to top
himself and if he wasn’t free to hang
it all, silence the dreams, finally slop
out video loops that won’t wipe away
with deep breaths, press-ups or wellness workshops,
then what’s the bastard point? Them’s the breaks, Pal;
You work in counseling, the need never stops.
It’s like the weather; good days, bad days, move on,
Drink coffee. Go home. Haven’t seen him since.