This
Delinquent Clock Is Not A Toy
... brandish my prenatal albatross
cover my departure from the real.
It's more like a bombed-out husk;
not hospitable to my life-form
or the way that I feel.
Talking to the roof,
push and shove it from above it.
Poised to sproing
gotta eat what's left of this messy coin.
I’m
Coughing the Cough
staggering around
Got a sophisticated cough
Sky goes by my psychotic cottage.
On a fait quit fooling around
with the hands of time.
This delinquent clock is not a toy.
