Thursday, 1 April 2010

24 hour petrol station

Can’t even tell who
It used to be.
Left dying in sperm
And blood and air
That smells like
The flu.
Separate yourself,
Take a walk,
Use distance like
Medicine and walk
To the 24 hour
Petrol station to
Top up on supplies.
Gonna stay inside
Till it gets dark
Again so lots of sugar,
Coffee, crap that’ll
Stuff up your innards,
Keep you regular
But stodgy. Keep you
Feeling as heavy
As the dread that
Keeps cropping up
In those dreams of yours.
The dreams that
Started all of this.