got a
hash tin
full with
seven types of weed/pill pot rattles reassuring
ETC
and
booze is freely available
from local vendors . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmm
BLAH
so
-
i’m away/off/hidden in sloth and shouting
(for months/years/decades of fug)
got a
buffer
of
Organisations i deal with for cash to extend
pages
of
drinks on ice and blind mammal stasis
i ignore my birthdays/age is a surprise
so i halt and seize and stop the tide
AS IF!
soft clothes
child’s rags
around hunched shoulders/i’m hiding
in
FUG
buffer of bus time
of
downtime
of
blindtime
i blurt and scribble dysfunction and fug
BUT change lives on the horizon
Horrible Change -
come
to
my
ignorant arms
and hurt me better
Although I was somewhat mystified I felt this poem allowed me a peek into your mind.
ReplyDeletethen this poem did its job. thanks for reading.
ReplyDelete