Throw another shot. Why not? Sticks and stones. Eyes and tries. Go trading with trolls. See what comes out. In the underbridge them take them favour, them take them filter, them make it seem like truth of water wash anything clean. Trit-trot. Trit-trot. Don’t care none how sad or bad. Of one more time. When one more is same as 1000 more if you add enough zero. Taste bitter in the growls. And scowls. Time and time. And the sigh when you try, and the try when you sigh. And the cry. Enough to taste. Powder to paste. Blow up them balloon mask for looking at when you can’t tell squat between the ugly. Take them I-glass. Take them I-truth. Like a pill. Make you ill. Coz even when the burn comes, it still feel like comfort.
©2017 Jac Forsyth