Where’s the Exit?
S bath
Clutched in sit, you are in the scrubbers bath
Munching fielded flowers, in tickling hours
Jumping down on a road drill
Built those sinews, in arms, up
There you are, strangling a hurt cup,
The breeze, is drifting in friendly
Through the agitated door
In flaked primrose paint
After the busting sun, grizzled me
Looking I see five variations
Of your gripped dormant face
I’m juggling, with the spitted out, Jet tongue
Crowding out of your
Symmetric smoking face
Your looking for a tubular end
Without a funnelled headache
You kneed me, in a irregular place
In lasts weeks smirk
I’m ugly, but leaving, I’m leaving pretty
Across perfumed towels
Where’s the Exit? Well! It’s where you came in
