Thursday, 1 September 2011

wits end

all flexed up like an alley cat,
 hot head, dead dreams 
an eye glinting gold and a head turning black, 
 flipped a coin ran two blocks and turned back. 
 no opening up of thoughts, 
a head full of collapsed chairs with broken latches.
a fish in a bowl, a fly in a jar, a sprinter running laps.
Rinse lather repeat, good clean living and all that.  

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