Poems and stuff by Maté Jarai…
Poems and stuff by Maté Jarai…

…there should be no ‘I’ in live

I looked out at

Brighton from the

back window

of my neighbour’s

fourth floor flat.

There was fog.

The sky was grey.

The sea was black.

The seagulls were loud.

It was 11.58 when

the fireworks started to

go off in all

the little gardens.

There were no

societal spectacles,

no organised festivities.

Just people on their own

in their little quads of freedom,

refusing to let another year

start without

the flurry, the fury.

My neighbour was

drunk and screamed,

“Happy fucking

new year.”

We lit a spliff.

We couldn’t find

the bottle opener

for the wine.

I said, “I love people.”

Ten minutes ago

I hated them.

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