the worst thing about being a dalek
is how remote you feel from tender flesh
& how every sexual position
makes you feel more like a fucking bollard
it’s all so weird & inconceivable
that the person strolling past the butcher’s
with a bag clogged with Asda ready meals
is set for a night of supple passion
while you stand wheel-clamped by your tinny self
& she’s out dancing through the neighbourhood
taking Zumba styling through the city
that never sleeps & never really wakes
I followed the stars & one-way systems
all the way to Ebbsfleet International