Feeble running tired

I drink and drink.
rank with the feeling.
Depressions on my forehead.

I drink and drink,
not really wanting to.
Passing time, passing round.

I drink and drink,
everything swells. Feet, hands-
Ideas, hunger, genitals, blood.

Swelling and smelling sweet.
My lasting latent treat.

And over we blow,
in the glow of-
it all. Action. Excitement.
Learning so much.

Sitting and running.
Not sunning, safe.
Dad and mum.
Kids growing up, to be better than their parents.
All the things that we can rally and rail against.
Sleet from a sleeping ship.
Slipping on stairs. Crying behind barrels.
Tar in out eyes.
Pitched souls.
Morbid turgid thoughts.
tastes of gluttony.
Burnt sugar and sand.
Taken beatings from the feeding hand.
That’s your reprimand.
My final stand.
Unplanned, ship unmanned.
Fanned clans of Jackie Chans

Time to rest, no time for swelling.
Brush your teeth, drink some water.
All out of whack.
Time fly
working tie.
No sky,
smile wry.
Simple pie.
regular guy.
Green green – curry.

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