it's there when he wakes before dawn
twisting his guts into hot knots of barbed
wire
he drags it to the shower
dead weight
big and black as thunder
and by the time the birds are bawling
and the weak winter sun draws shapes round the curtains
its shrunk to a black dog
that's fat and farting on the greasy kitchen lino
by the time he leaves for work
its packed tight in a backpack
and just about light enough
to travel with
big and black as thunder
and by the time the birds are bawling
and the weak winter sun draws shapes round the curtains
its shrunk to a black dog
that's fat and farting on the greasy kitchen lino
by the time he leaves for work
its packed tight in a backpack
and just about light enough
to travel with
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