It's nothing like in the magazines
scarves wrapped around the throats
of human beings and scenes of utter desperation mock me down at Stratford station.
I expected something more on Monday than thoughts of Friday
getting in the way of mining a
morning from the gaping chasm of
people yawning.
The underground
a breeding ground to flounder in
or possibly it's me
jaded by time
and drowning in my misery
happily
I find it's not
this really is the melting ***
and we're all being
slowly stewed.
Here be no interlude
no
Kia-ora to slowly sip
just
the trip and yet they say
the journey
is
what makes the day.
The Monday matinee
when I wish it was
still Saturday
well
I would wouldn't i?
A voice in my ear
says relax
or maybe it's wax.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
It's nothing like in the magazines
scarves wrapped around the throats
of human beings and scenes of utter desperation mock me down at Stratford station.
I expected something more on Monday than thoughts of Friday
getting in the way of mining a
morning from the gaping chasm of
people yawning.
The underground
a breeding ground to flounder in
or possibly it's me
jaded by time
and drowning in my misery
happily
I find it's not
this really is the melting ***
and we're all being
slowly stewed.
Here be no interlude
no
Kia-ora to slowly sip
just
the trip and yet they say
the journey
is
what makes the day.
The Monday matinee
when I wish it was
still Saturday
well
I would wouldn't i?
A voice in my ear
says relax
or maybe it's wax.
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