Sunday morning
sluggish streets blink
and whisper to themselves
that there was sun, yesterday
the jagged methadone
of a bad night’s sleep
giving all the weight
none of the peace
technicolour memories
seem to be made false
by this overcast sky
so happiness lies
in the old days
a cigarette and a cup of coffee
would smooth edges,
in the good old days
Sep 19, 2021
Sep 19, 2021 at 6:09 AM UTC
Sunday morning
sluggish streets blink
and whisper to themselves
that there was sun, yesterday
the jagged methadone
of a bad night’s sleep
giving all the weight
none of the peace
technicolour memories
seem to be made false
by this overcast sky
so happiness lies
in the old days
a cigarette and a cup of coffee
would smooth edges,
in the good old days
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