MONDAY MORNING
monday morning always tastes of monday morning
when the bedside siren calls time on oblivion
and my dreams turn b&w in the neon smack of day
and struggling to understand i lock them away
and they wait
on a crack
in the light
between responsibility and habit
to run their mad riot again
COFFEE AND JUICE
monday morning tastes like that metallic burr of strong medication
even
tho
we
are
off
and
laying in
with no vet panic or auto repair for a change
a subsonic bell rings a slice of loss
without time to be noticed
before coffee
and juice
obscure with floods
animal sense and the residual derelict party of dreams
WEEKEND
mondays barcode is smudged
my mind bleeps NO like a posties machine
in consecutive failure to understand
after
saturdays free tease
and
sundays broadmoor
exercise yard
blue
chug
from crowthorneheritage.co.uk
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