The sink spills furry foam
The stink fills up the home
To drink pills and not your own
Shown in sparkling chrome
We roam this hall
Tall tails, exports of truth
Small-scale increments of youth
Turn tail and short tooth
Uncouth peerless sleuth
Talk booth for soaring wills
Boring bills clawing still
Ignoring chills kill the thrill
Their pills to cure the ill
Full fill trip and spill
Windmill upon the walls
These halls abide the sick
Abode the spare tide is thick
The square side is slick
Kick the whoring hicks
Magic tricks defy the skies
Flies are buzzy around the shit
The fuzzy soaking in the spit
Those busy minds will admit
And knit a fine coloured mitt
Fit for the grim pill
1 comment:
The musicality of this poem stands in contrast to its content. It's a beautiful poem about something ugly; a form poem containing something chaotic. It's also a lot of fun to read aloud.
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