The drip

The king of the bag.

Down to the last lick.

Runny nose,

And hayfever

Or the cold

For an excuse.

But I fuking love it.

Everything no longer

Feels shit.

An hour long wank,

As the drip falls

And hits my phone screen

As time flys

And I don't care

There and then

That I won't sleep.

Tomorrow I'll worry,

Tomorrow night

An early night I'll get.

Just let me ride the waves

Of no longer hurting

If just for a minute.

Sold out

We sold our dreams

To the machines, 

For half their worth. 

Just to buy us time, 

To make our money work. 

We don't sleep as deep, 

Or relax. 

Our noses sore, 

And our loneliness 

Numbed

As the bills pile up

With no way out. 

We don't see friends,

Can't afford to leave the house.

Everythings too loud

Too much

Not the same, 

Since covid struck.