Reader #8 – Jamie Thrasivoulou

During the run up to the launch of Hand Job Zine: An Anthology, we will be posting work from the readers that will be featured on the night to give you a taste of what you can expect on the 3rd of March. For more info click here and to join the facebook event follow this link.

Jamie Thrasivoulou

Find out more at Jamie’s website.

(Taken from his collection The Best of a Bad Situation)

The Old Enemy

In your youth it used to guide you/over the cast-iron cellar-grates of terraced houses/it would kick stones and bits of rubbish down the holes and gaps—filling blackness

It would even let your dog piss over them/No quarter or consideration given/to the total desecration of another human’s dwelling/

You could often be found staggering around back-alleys/Tripping over cobbled-stones/Crouched behind industrial bins having a cheeky line or bangin’
Some bird you’d barely just met/and sometimes both at the same time/

Stumbling from casino’s, leaving wasted cappuccinos on the side/Most of the time down-on-luck/full of fucks and other curses (but none to give) /sanity long deserted/Time, please/long-past closing/

But once you were in for the win/A wedge of pink-crisp notes – over five grand/A stunner had attached herself to your arm for the night/Claimed she was your lucky charm, here to aid your plight/Let’s take the house down together, darling/She told you that: You were real charming: just the type-of-guy she was always looking for/The rendezvous was planned for afterhours/

Now it’s after that/but you think she’s more like: after YOURS/As in money/
She is keeping bad company/but that’s the attraction/The danger element/
She leads you away/in self-pursuit/Complete with wannabe hard-man in a cheap Gangster suit/You’d already heard him sniffing in the loos/needing more than booze to cruise for the bruise/
Not even a has-been/more like a never was/But nevertheless, he looked a keen tryer

About your heels, like a rat/Chemical-carnage spread across his chops as you smash his face into the shutters of Greggs – the pasty shop/As he flops to the floor/The sound of an opening door/taxi driver getting out/Fuck that, get back in/You urge him/You leave the woman cursing at the fellow who’s still crouched into a ball/Must be winded bad/Not your fault, on this occasion/but night’s like this will always reaffirm/That the ego/is an old enemy/ best left in the past, to burn/

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