When the last strained
chord of the parade
blew sour and home sounded
good again and all the trash
was meticulously placed
on the floor there was
a bottle rocket peeling
past the grim-faced throng
to adorn ribcages
with a scatter of sparks
the desperate stink
of burning hair wafted
all was transgressed
and now the walk
of shame.
a swig of honeyed
gin and all was
right again
until next year
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
When the last strained
chord of the parade
blew sour and home sounded
good again and all the trash
was meticulously placed
on the floor there was
a bottle rocket peeling
past the grim-faced throng
to adorn ribcages
with a scatter of sparks
the desperate stink
of burning hair wafted
all was transgressed
and now the walk
of shame.
a swig of honeyed
gin and all was
right again
until next year
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