don't listen to mozart;
lacrimosa
lack any dosage:
lacrimosa
tea; no coaster:
lacrimosa
broken toaster:
lacrimosa

wined and dined till i wound up dead
drowned and cold, alone in bed
i hid in bottles and bottled smiles
i fought to forget and wasted my whiles

it took a year but i woke up
swapped the pint for the coffee cup
There's certainly less ache
in this life i will not forsake
but the smile is still fake

all of god's angels couldn't put me back together again

you're not my pen
you're my paper
you're not my heart
you'll be its breaker

i'm not sorry for drawing
i'm sorry for scrawling
i'm not sorry for calling
but i'm sorry for falling

she                     like           poem
          walked                a

just a ****** busker wishing he was a **** buster
he swam lack-lustre,
a salmon unable to muster
the will to cut the custard,
and flutter upstream to meet a lover

stuck in the gutter singing covers
a crushed sucker, tasteless kfc crusher
ominous as a dawn-less dusk and
useless as a ham sandwich with no mustard

The great turbines now rusted
I wonder if I can still cry
the heavens make it look so easy
when tears fall from the sky

the wet rags of emotion can no longer be wrung
the sobs to the beat of a tearful drip have been sung
those sonnets have been passed to another's lungs
another's tongue
are tears what it means to be young