You're keeping me from adjusting,
I'm paper thin, tomorrows collectable trash,
so still and tainted, gone off.
...thoughts of a prolonged past.
This be a virtue, an opportunity,
to be calm and just laugh.
I'm open all hours to give you nothing,
and mumble shit, my monotone moan,
will only bore you, like the partner,
you despise arising/waking up too,
the one with that famous morning scented groan.
No comments:
Post a Comment