*click* *click* *click*
*swipe* *swipe* *swipe*
Not even any tears
*twirl* *twirl* *twirl*
That’s it! That’s that! It’s good to see you’re finally being a man.
*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*
is the bus timetable.
Without it, just where would I be?
With it just how can I disobey it?
And so life revolves around numbers and cards.
It might be ‘just’ something, it might be not what you’d hoped.
But it’s something.
And now I’ve lost that limbo.
After seventeen months, a new record.
When you can just fade out within the fog. Like at the top of a pylon Like the bottom of a lake. Continue reading
It’s just the same as rotting meat and dirty clothes these days.
Not to be confused with a scarf or pillow.
He’s used to it, but should he be?
And makeshift binoculars so you can see it clearly.