and for the record,
no one thinks they're pretty
when they rain

so cry your ****** heart out,
and snort around the trough
whilst you’re covered
in mud.

Just let it all remind you
why this poem is
absolutely pointless.

And so are you,
and so am I,
and so is your dog
you love so much.

Because all we know
is the point in which
you start breathing,

and that eventually
you’re going to stop too,

so do something decent
with the middle
won’t you?

may aswell x