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.