Saturday, August 13, 2016

My Suffering Skills - Poetry by Sam Freek

My Suffering Skills
The colour eight is orange
But you think it's blue 
We have blast off
It's been well looked after
I can hear your monotone mumble
Sat over here on the couch 
Rolling up the hill with no safety net
It's flavoursome in WMC land
The smell of custard creams fills the air
Whistles and cheers for an encore
Stay out all night with my tshirt on
She sucked on her gums for comfort
 
I just downed that round
Yes I'm alright stop asking
Thanks for your endless support
It gave the ending away
My memory bank is full of glitter
Driver you've gone past my stop

No comments:

Post a Comment