Like some unbalanced wood house
Jazzy temperature of nuclear lightbulb mojo lights up,
Working hours a day aches feet arching forward over
These eyes fringed love of eyes of silk,
Why she hates me is another reason.
Up the alleyway rains for teeming doused
Roads jumper sodding jumper hair and head
What milky bland glass
Plain tabula does she think she’s writing on?
What? Just made of milk? Or what?
What a fucking waste, half-misconstrued
Half wasted; what a waste of time with my
Her hair is cut over her eyes
Her tongue behind her lips.