It’s where I go
when nothing makes sense
when most people would go to cliffs,
or drive to the sea
believing waves will heal.
I stand at the Appliances skip at Adswood Tip,
stare into the cracked screens of televisions,
the bent metal of redundant videos,
rejected, exposed blades of faulty blenders.
All these objects,
gadgets once grasped
ready to kit out a new house,
full of such promise.
The mangled future unknown.
Metal or plastic shaped for satisfaction,
now thrown with malice and unnecessary force
among the debris of broken ideals.