Not a 6 inch increment
If I were to self-isolate
I’d make sure I drip from the right orifice
I’d say, leave the muck
We’ve time to fuck
About in our dirty truck
Followed by a bath filled with rose petals
A comforter spread misted with lavender increments
The black hare
He doesn’t care
He is merely human
She won’t know what to think
She had too many Guardian Angels
He is a constant thorn
She will disapropiate
Brother, Eish let me make you another tea and I may share a few yarns with you
Paint the roses any hue- the town is full of red-faced
men who do nothing to tame your mews
Some of us have got to say
About something. Kay?
Cos last time I checked Its OKAY to talk, spew, let it all out
Shake your tosser hand
Make sure of that clout you received last night.
I wasn’t there
I don’t care
What the fuck is a silent night
When your body is a constant ablaze to inner trappings of your, inner might
What a sight.
A mind is cleansed by a prayer to shovel it to under nature’soils with a -blackie -the dead knight
He’s no talisman
He was a pet rabbit, not the shaded son’s garden boy.
That is a story where both lived to know what it feels to catch ha fright.
It didn’t start with a waterproof plastering over a burial ground….
It’s my curfew
Self isolate, lick my tail and tell myself self soothing mew mews
(Curfew words) too tired to correct
My simple pleasure is well over due.