Roughly as poetic as a bag of smashed arseholes.







Scribble back.


Monday, 25 October 2010

6. Drudge

I’m so very, very, very, very, tired
Of being unable to sleep, and unable
To keep, what I mean from saying
In my concrete, drudgeried head
I just want to lay my skull on the hay and
Rest, and watch your billows of lung
Flare, in the morning sun, like it used to
When we were younger, and I more awake

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