Can't back on words.
Flare for the dramatic.
Static mind, stale smell
As Winter dies slowly.
This is the part where
I would beat me up proper,
Being a proper fuck up,
But refrain, abstain from
That for just one night.
Sun pours down as it
Tells me It will leave me soon.
Thanks.
Feels good.
So does the beer.
You know, I'd be a better drunk
If I could afford it.
Budgetary deficit will
Only allow a shot of brown,
Two or three beers,
And maybe that can do.
Found out some things today.
Two wheels feel awfully nice.
Pity it was only to work and back.
Found out how much it all hurts.
But if you sort of step back,
Check your limbs and breathing,
Stay away from the heavy rhythm,
Then it might just be okay a while.
There goes the sun.
Told me goodnight.
What an old man.
I won't be to bed a while,
And beat that son of a bitch
To waking, and workout, shower,
Spill coffee on the counter,
And be bound for labor
By the time he stretches his limbs.
Easy job. Probably good benefits.
Singular perception.
I know his game.
I play it to.
To burn.