No glue sticks by my heart,
The loving memory of your dead past:
Lifeless and inert
Scab of wound
Peeve the pus
To hard dried red corpuscles crust
What long and lasting wait
Lash my toddy fate
To mount vapid my vacuous thoughts
No bond fasten my delight now,
But to cleanse and flush my gut
Gurgling down the gutter pipe
No comments:
Post a Comment