One word for writing doom. Mariokart.

You won't know who you are before long because I myself have lost track

When I moved in here the smell of paint had
moved in before me and taken root.

Bathed in egg-splashed light from my bedroom window,
I woke up to the confession that you'd given your parrot

to the gas-man. The only impact left
to me is other people's reaction to the news. I keep

moments of us still, hoard the stuff you gave freely
from over the road once, countless minutes ago.

The city is alive I said once alive with everything at 5am except
chicken fried rice and that's the only thing we want.

I haven't seen you since but always consider you
when your birthday comes round. You must be dreaming

of elsewhere in America/Manchester/Edinburgh
/Brighton by now. Never anywhere I can trust.