Gluttony

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Imogen Stirling

Imogen Stirling is a talented musical artist known for her captivating performances and poignant songwriting. Her music blends elements of folk, pop, and alternative genres, creating a unique and soulful sound. With her mesmerizing vocals and thought-provoking lyrics, Imogen Stirling has garnered acclaim for her heartfelt storytelling and emotive connection with her audience. Her music explores themes of love, loss, and self-discovery, resonating with listeners on a deep and personal level. Imogen Stirling's talent and genuine passion for music make her a rising star in the industry. more »

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The clock strikes evening forwards on this Friday night
And the flat is rife with unfulfilled tension
Torpor and consternation
He'd lingered at the Tesco shelves until certainty approached
Dismissed notions of rent, bills and kindly loans
To grab Bacardi and Coke before the spell broke
Hardly a sin is it, hardly a sin?

The party is his tonight
Congregated strangers crazed by consumption
Straining to fit the given mould of student culture
Each slightly queasy by the night's prospect
Yet drink until drink until drink until drink
Until arrogance bursts forth through anxious ribs
And holds its own
In a zone of masturbatory ego stoking
Brash and unfolding, peacocks preaching politics
And boasting philosophy
Filled to the brim with cheap mixer and gin
Until collective vomiting of confidence
Sets guards back up
Left sick with lust for unattainable life

Fill me up
I cannot get enough
Fill me up
I just want to be loved

He's crept upstairs early
Nauseous and lonely and in need of bedroom safety
Beats bleed through walls, but housed in blanket womb
That wound stays sutured, reclusive
Not in the mood to talk rumours
The scene downstairs is a sea of clashing vanities
Bereft of friendship
An empty ruse to rally  tomorrow's profile pictures
Extending the fiction of how to do weekends

He just wants a hand to hold, an arm to slip under
He just wants to forget the red stamped letters
The broken heater, the battle to make ends meet
He wants to forget he spent her money on a disco strobe
Desperate for acceptance
He wants to hate her for trying to protect him

Her waitress tips masquerading as WiFi assistance
Went on a litre of lime-flavoured paint stripper
He necks it and undoes his zipper
She said she wants the best for him
She always wants the best for him
Two years younger than him
He cringes at the ridicule  of her concern
Thoughts swim in vodka seas as he takes a clumsy picture
Sends it to her
A gift, he thinks
Unsolicited
Illicit
Explicit
Idiot
Burned pupils imbued with hateful toxicity
Eyes glazed, money wasted, binged and broken

He thinks of the jokes that they share in the kitchen
As she carries used plates and he flips her a pancake
Their cigarette breaks, their bus shelter waits
He thinks of the way she draws a smiley face
Every time on the stiff brown envelopes she splits her tips into
Slips inside his bag with a nonchalant grin
He thinks of her waking for her 6am shift
The crime on her phone screen
He thinks of her starting her day with his sin
And remorse is a blade twist

Fill me up
I cannot get enough
Fill me up
I just want to be loved

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