CONCRETE MUTHA

so
i'm whining again about being tired

thats what i do/how i roll/what i write

cos
the day
is always a shit-heavy Concrete Mutha!

a mire of sludge and a sluice of marsh
thick
like
chocolate
but all a bad rotten brown

whining about
the tight-wire of coffee one
the rocket launches in the wrong morning
shower mist hanging in the air

and
my
eyes
always say its 3 AM
and my legs like hot lead/hauling my devil heavy hooves
thru
the
Concrete Mutha

whining
about
the
lead-poison fug of this autumn spring
where
the
alchemy is mistaken/suns vitamins locked by ash grey clouds
and
by
ten thirty i had enough
of
the Concrete Mutha squatting cracked on my eyes

and the plastic corridors of work
are overlit and blank 
and 
shallow sitcom laughs and shouts
inflate 
my head 
like a steel balloon

and i am Uninspired
and i am Flat
and i am Concrete
like
a
Mutha