The thought of listening to Portishead on pills
The thought
The thought
Pulling me through until Tuesday morning
Pulling through the piss in the trough
Pulling thoughts through the trough...though...
Though...
I have stared at that group of words
Too long and they do not make sense anymore.
I start feeling Jeremy Irons staring,
Burning holes
Into the back of my skull
Pissing in a trough
Or staring out the bus window
Testing how certain words sound in my head
A 'Dealership' opened at this time of the morning
A 'Scrappage' banner outside
Creasing under its own weight
I savor them like two biscuits aside
my pre-work coffee
This early, they do not count.
CK
