Gok (second draft)

December 28, 2008

One day,
I worry I’ll end up on one of those
reality TV programmes –
Gok Wan,
prodding at my bare bum,
like a piece of livestock.

One moment
I’ll be sitting on the loo
with some cut price booze,
the next I’ll be seeing an advert
participants wanted –
to take off all their clothes.

One day I worry
I’m really going to do it –
bare all to the Highcross,
moon on a building.
I won’t know what I’m doing.
I’ll tell myself it’s research
I’m an undercover feminist,
when really it’s the hell of it
I’ll do it for.

My mother will complain to the BBC,
she’ll tell them I was ill,
and probably smoking weed,
and I’ll wake up the next day
in my tiny little flat
and not know what I’ve done,
’cause I’ve done it in a trance.

But one day I really worry
that I’ll do it without thinking,
and it’ll be a kind of killing
a masochism willing
to destroy the world I live in,
just because. And then
it’ll be too late.

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